


The Shackles On Your Soul

by randomrosewrites



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Choking, Depression, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Pet Names, Pets, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Vox is an asshole change my mind, alastor what the fuck does that mean get back here, animal companion, i swear my writing gets better, my writing goes on a roller coaster of quality, no beta we die like real men, updates are random lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 112,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomrosewrites/pseuds/randomrosewrites
Summary: Living in the heart of Pentagram City, your life is centred around serving Vox, a powerful overlord in Hell.You follow his every word and command, regardless of who you hurt, regardless of who you kill. It's Hell, where there is no place for empathy or emotions.You had accepted your fate for all of eternity. That is until a run-in with the infamous Radio Demon puts you on a path that terrifies you more than anything you've ever experienced before.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Vox (Hazbin Hotel) & Reader
Comments: 555
Kudos: 933





	1. Setting the Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preface:  
> This work contains Violence, gore, cursing, drug and alcohol mentions, mental health issues, and dark themes. It also contains scenes of abusive/ possessive behaviour and other possibly triggering subjects. Please read the tags and warnings before each chapter, read at your own risk. 
> 
> The world of Hazbin hotel and its characters belong to Vivziepop I do not own any of these characters.

Sleeping was peaceful.

Your mind was put in a quiet state of neutrality where you felt nothing, did nothing, thought nothing, and remembered nothing. Hours and hours of the day were lost and gone instantly, the passage of time meant nothing when you were asleep.

You weren’t even able to _comprehend_ that nothing was happening, because _you weren’t conscious._

You didn’t even dream. You haven't dreamt for a long, long time.

No matter how long you slept, it was never enough. You could be passed out for days at a time and still feel exhausted when you woke. 

Waking up at all came as a disappointment to you.

Which is what you felt this morning, as you woke to the sound of your phone blaring; A high-pitched, annoying shrill that cut through the quiet oblivion of your sleep like a gunshot. Groaning, you reached over to your nightstand to answer it.

“I was _supposed_ to be off,” you grumbled, doing your utmost to keep how tired you were out of your voice. 

“ _Sorry baby_ , I need you to run a few errands for me.”

You had long since gotten used to the terms he called you, sarcastically at that, but they still made your lip curl in disgust. “No one else could take it?” 

“I probably could find someone...but where would be the fun in _that_?” you could imagine that flicker of a blue smile that crossed his face as he spoke teasingly. 

The edges of your mouth twitched. “Where?” 

“Drop by the studio, I have something for you to pick up.” And with a click, the line was dead. 

You tossed the phone on the table, flopping back down on your bed with a groan. It was so warm and your body was still achy from the previous day of work. How you wish you could spend just a little more time asleep...

But as much as you loathed to get up, you’d be in a lot more trouble if you ended up being late.

With a grunt, you flung the blankets off of you, stumbling your way towards the bathroom. 

Each step was ice cold on your bare feet, and your exposed skin was pricked with gooseflesh. Despite the natural humid and hot climate in Hell, mornings were always freezing. Even in the city. The sun was just barely rising, casting a hazy red glow into your apartment. 

The clothes you wore were simple, and had been the same since you first came here. Black slacks, a white dress shirt with a plain tie. Sometimes you slipped on an overcoat or took a hat with you, depending on the weather. You combed your hair out of your face and neatly secured it in place.

It was routine, simple, and calmed you. 

Then came your weapons. 

Holster under the shoulders, two guns, one knife tucked snugly against your waist, and you were ready. You didn’t have the physical capabilities other demons had, nor the magic power they possessed. So you had to rely on your weapons. They weren’t normal ones, of course, but they weren’t extraordinary either. 

Still, they got the job done. 

It was cold right now but it would most definitely warm up once daylight broke out. You put on your blazer, flattening out any folds in the material. It was black but shimmered in the light with blue and green accents. 

"Gotta always be matching with _him_ ," you murmured out loud. 

You looked out the window. The city was still busy with flashing lights and sinners wandering around. The occasional muffled explosion or scream rang out, but it was far from the usual chaos that occurred during the day. Your part of the city had been quieter ever since the extermination a few weeks ago. 

Even in Hell, things could be somewhat calm. But it never lasted long. 

Mentally steeling yourself for what lay ahead, you slipped your phone into your breast pocket, stepping out into the bustling streets of Pentagram city. 

* * *

Porn Studios never slept. _Never_. 

The lobby was busy as ever with flashing neon lights, music thumping, and patrons gawking over the advertised escorts. A handful of workers mingled around, flirting and drinking with those who were the best dressed (Aka, the _richest_ ). The scents of various perfumes and essences’ made your mind spin and eyes flutter from the weight of it all. The atmosphere of the place was meant to be hypnotic and erotic, and it succeeded. You had visited the studio enough to be mostly used to it, and for those who worked under Valentino to understand you were not looking for a ' _good time'._ Even so, the place was always a bit overwhelming at first. 

A warmth settled across your skin, making you feel suffocated by the heat of it. You desperately wanted to run back outside and gulp deep breaths of stale air to get away from here. Instead, you forced yourself to power through the cluster of people. 

You checked in with the receptionist before taking a seat on an empty couch and waiting patiently. You regretted not eating something beforehand, feeling your stomach growl with the inklings of hunger. 

“Heya toots,” a dishevelled, yet happy pink and white spider sat down next to you. His smile was tired, and his makeup was smudged over his white cheeks, giving him a permanent, messy blush. A cigarette was between his gloved fingers as he exhaled a breath of smoke. “Ya’ look like you had a rough fuckin’ night.”

You gave him a small smile, “Hello Angel, how was yours?"

He threw his head back and cackled. “HAH. Bitch, night ain’t over. I haven’t even slept yet!” 

You liked Angel. For as loud and crude as he could be, it was nice talking to him (on the rare occasions you two saw each other). You both could relate to each other, being servants for your masters. (Even if _he_ didn’t admit it to himself.) His was a pimp, yours was an asshole.

“You’ve been working all night?” you asked. 

“Well, yeah, but I mean- I’m partyin’ all the same,” he winked at you. “Multi-tasking baby! Gotta’ rake in that dough somehow, y’know?”

Now that you looked closer, maybe he wasn’t happy as much as he was high off his ass. Regardless, he seemed to be having fun. He flagged down a server, who refiled his glass. Angel swung it down like a shot, excess rolling down his exposed cleavage. The outfit he had on exposed more skin than it covered. All the workers at the studio dressed like that. After years of exposer (literally and metaphorically), you were used to it.

Besides, you'd seen worse. 

Your stomach growled, reminding you of your situation. “Hey, do you have anything to eat on you?” 

Angel patted himself down, taking extra care around his chest. “Nah, babe. Sorry. Not unless yer planin’ on getting baked this early in the day."

“I’ll pass.”

You waved down another attendant, who managed to find some edible pretzels in the back room. They were stale, but you took what you got. 

You bantered with Angel for a bit. He mostly did the talking, but you didn’t mind. He was good at storytelling too, talking with his hands and snapping his fingers when his mind blanked momentarily. You two chatted about the wild nights he had, or about the shitty pizza places in the city, but _never_ about work. _Never_ about your bosses. 

You had just finished off your bowl when the clerk rang you up.

“That’s me,” you stood up. “I’ll see you around, Angel.” 

“Y’know where to go for a good time.” The spider snapped his fingers at you, and with a wink, strutted off to another group of demons with a swagger in his hips.

* * *

You took the elevator up to the top floor. It was made of glass and overlooked the entirety of the city as it shot up to the penthouse. You took a moment to appreciate the silence, watching the residents of Hell go about their daily lives so far below. Sometimes you wished life could just be like that. Observing everything rather than participating, like a fly on the wall. 

The doors opened, and you stepped through into Valentino’s private lounge. Said man was nowhere to be seen, but your boss was there, sitting splayed out of the couch, arm over the back as he gazed out over the city. At your arrival, his square head turned to you, grinning. 

“There you are,” Vox stood up. He was immaculately dressed as ever, with his striped suit and tophat. The only thing off about his attire was that his red bowtie was unravelled and hung loosely around his neck. He walked over to the window. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

You complied, holding your arms behind your back as you stood just behind him. When he realized you weren’t going to come closer he placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing you in front of him.

“You see that?” He bent down to your ear. Up close you could hear the quiet buzzing and workings of his screen. 

By screen, you _literally_ meant screen. Vox had a television right where his head should be. Or should you say, he had a _television for a head._ Two red eyes and a wide cyan smile were displayed on it, now focused on you. 

"See what?

" _That."_ he pointed at a building dotting the horizon. The electronic mask of his voice was soft, too soft for your liking.

“Yes.”

“Watch,” a silence stretched out between the two of you. The longer he touched you, the harder it was for you to will your body into a state of calm. You hated him touching you, it always made you uneasy and tense. Maybe it was just the feeling of electricity buzzing against your skin. 

Then the building exploded.

You saw the explosion before you heard it. The building shot down in a cloud of smoke and debris. It didn’t take more than 5 seconds for the entire block to be enveloped with the dust kicked up from the crumbling brick. Thankfully, it was a precise demolition, nearby buildings had remained structurally sound. Nearby demons poked their heads out of the adjacent buildings, scuttling around the wreck like ants. 

“Why-” 

“We’re putting up a new broadcasting tower,” he interrupted you. You fought back the urge to scream. He _always_ did that. A while ago you learned to just stop talking unless you absolutely had to, but even, then he found ways to talk over what little you had to say.

“See, Val’s got this place, but me? I haven’t organized an official, public place of residence yet; There hasn’t been anything _nearly_ as flashy or official as this to promote _Triple V_ media yet.”

Why does he tell you this stuff like he thinks you care?

Oh, that’s right, because he lives for stroking his own ego, even if no one cares about what he’s saying. 

“Besides,” he drew you in close again. So close that the glow from his screen cast a blue light on your face. You clenched your jaw, going rigid. “ _You have to remind everyone down here who’s in charge every so often._ ” 

You challenged his stare with your own as his eyes darted up and down your frame to gauge your reaction. Your hands were shaking.

‘ _Stop it. Just breath. Relax._ ’ you urged yourself, digging your nails into your palm. 

Seeming satisfied, he released you. You let out a sigh of relief, taking a moment to flatten your blazer again to calm yourself. 

With his back turned to you, he fished out some papers from his suit. They were sealed in black and blue envelopes, the air around them seemed to quiver and twist in a strange way. You eyed the material suspiciously. 

“Deliver this to Miss Killjoy over on the east side 666 station.” 

You took the papers from him swiftly. A shudder ran through you when your fingers touched them. 

Oh, hell. You recognized what they were. 

_Soul contracts._

“You owed a debt to her?” you mused, tucking the papers into your jacket. Vox pulled them out of your grip. In one swift motion, he grabbed your face with his hand. You tensed, the sudden movement causing you to bite down on the inside of your mouth. His claws dug into your cheeks as he leaned down and spoke slowly, warningly. 

“...Of course not. Don’t worry your little head about it, _doll_ , just do your job.” His message was clear, _stop talking back_. 

Message received loud and clear, boss. 

He held you there for a few breaths before releasing you and handing the papers back to you. He patted your head, knowing how it made the corner of your eye twitch. 

“That all?” You tucked them away by your chest. The area they touched felt hot but didn’t radiate heat. They felt so dense and alive that you found breathing to be difficult. Their unconscious touch made your heart palpitate unwillingly and uncomfortably. 

“After that, just continue patrolling as normal. A contract needs to be picked up from the _Neon Busters_ \- hah - that dino gang, _whatever they call themselves,_ over on the west side in the afternoon. I’ll send you the coordinates later.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. 

Taking your leave, you called the elevator and stepped inside it. 

“Oh, there is just one more thing…” As he relaxed back on the couch, a smirk grew on his face. The doors to the elevator closed, but you could still hear his voice, loud and clear in your mind. 

_'Our good friend Alastor, the Radio Demon, is in town.'_

* * *

The 666 news was one of the many networks under Vox’s web of control. It was the closest thing to a ‘normal’ news program down in Hell, offering everything including the newest stories, traffic updates, weather reports, and various special segments. Many demons worked for the 666 news, but Vox stood at the top. 

The program was wildly received as being ‘good’ (or whatever ‘good’ was down in Hell). Personally, you weren’t fond of them. 

As the cameras cut for another break, Katie Killjoy stepped offset to have a smoke, glaring at anyone who tried to approach her as she rubbed her temples. Her co-host Tom Trench was as usual, a headache. For as much as she openly loathed the man, he had a personality that appealed to their audience and a few connections that allowed him to sit in the hot seat. So she put up with it. 

“Miss Killjoy?”

Katie turned head and saw a small creature (Human? Demon? No, human.) standing beside her. She glared lasers at them. Couldn’t they read the room, that you do NOT approach her during her breaks? The staff members stood shocked, wondering who would _dare_ feel like poking the bear’s den this early in the morning. 

You ignored the puzzled looks from the crowd and repeated your question, “Miss Killjoy?”

She raised a brow, staring at you from the corner of her eyes. “What do you want?” 

You flashed the tips of the envelopes to her, “Delivery from overlord Vox.” 

Her eyes lit up instantly. Snuffing her cigarette under her stiletto, she grabbed your wrist and dragged you to an empty hallway. Once there, you revealed the envelopes fully, and she snatched them up quickly. 

“ _They’re real_?” she asked.

“Can’t you tell?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits again, a mix between a growl and a hiss forming in her throat. 

You sighed, “Yes, they’re real.” 

She drew out her other limbs, taking a moment to run her hands over the smooth, powerful lines of the paper. Her eyes were wide with elation, her smile causing the edges of her cheeks to crinkle. She tucked them away in her dress as she adjusted her hair. 

“...never a disappointment, tonight’s show is going to be _spectacular._ ” She said to herself.  
Before you could ask if she needed anything else, one of the crew members shouted out, _“One minute until live!”_

“You can go now,” Katie ordered as she walked away. You watched her retreating form, before sighing. 

Whatever, sometimes it was better to be clueless. 

As you took your leave, you made a mental note to do whatever you could to _not_ watch the news tonight. Otherwise you’d see those soul contracts be put to use. 

* * *

Angel was knocked out by the time you returned to the studio. Which was fine, as you had work to do. You wandered around Vox’s and Val’s turf for a few hours, keeping an eye out for anything strange or abnormal. Anything that caused a disturbance for Vox’s business was to be dealt with. 

You only had to get violent a few times with some rowdy denizens making a scene near one of Vox’s stores. They were easily dealt with. Most of them were choked out quietly, the others were so bonkers that it was easy to drag them and toss them into the outskirts of another demon’s turf, leaving them immobilized in a dumpster. 

Quiet and swept under the rug, that’s how Vox liked it. 

Having nothing else to do and with some time to kill, you ventured to a _hell-way_ joint to pick up a sub.

Demons and residents of Hell didn’t _really_ need to eat. Though, seeing as you weren’t exactly a demon or sinner _,_ you figured it was best if you ate regardless. Besides, indulging in a good meal was nice, even if the food was made from day-old-bread and plastics cheese. 

You were just paying for your sandwich when Vox’s voice popped into your head. 

_'456 Redrum Avenue in 20.'_

It was less of a voice more than it was a shared thought. That was one of the few advantages of having him for a boss, you had a unique connection with him.

You stilled, looking at the time. 

_'That barely gives me any time to get over there.'_ You thought back. 

_'Whoops. Looks like you’ll have to scurry.'_

“Asshat.” You grumbled, slamming your sandwich on the counter. No point in having it now. You tucked your hands in your pocket, making your way to the door. 

“Hey! Bitch! You have to pay for that!” The employee shrieked at you. You turned around, looking at the sandwich left alone. 

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“Yeah? Too bad! You still gotta pay for it!”

”But I never touched it-“

” _You still have to fucking pay for it!!!_ ”

Anger flickered up in you.

You didn’t have time for this.

Pulling the gun from it's holster, you aimed and fired one bullet.

It hit the employee in his shoulder. Electric tendrils brought the demon to the floor as he spasmed uncontrollably. Saliva foamed in his mouth, as his whole body went into shock. After a few seconds the spasms stopped, and he lay on the ground, face down, groaning in pain. 

The whole room went silent.

You tucked the gun back in it’s holster and walked to the door. Customers moved to let you pass, not frightened, but intrigued as you left. 

You almost felt sorry for the guy, you didn’t _have_ to tranquillize him. You tried not to use the little power Vox had given you unless you needed it.

But you were not in the mood right now. 

Stretching, you took a deep breath before breaking out into a sprint towards the west side of the city. 

  
  


* * *

“What, this is what that Vox bastard sends?” The head of the Neon Busters guaffed, looking at you. 

You were soaked with sweat, panting heavily as you arrived at the location Vox gave you. It was a back alley warehouse, sparsely decorated with crates and construction pipes. The place was dimly lit, but the members each had some sort of bioluminescence that made them look like glow-in-the-dark puppets. Hence, you assumed, ‘ _Neon_ ’ in _Neon Busters_. 

“Yeah,” you gasped between gulps of air. “Yeah, he sent me. Do you have what he wants?”

The dinosaur demon in front of you shifted in his seat. His skin was a dark blue, with a spiralling pattern of orange lines and shapes adorned his forearms. They reminded you of tangerine peels. 

“Whaddya mean?”

“The contract. He sent me to pick up a contract.”

“What contract?” 

You straightened up, eyes narrowed ahead. “You don’t have one?”

He laughed in your face. “You think he’s getting _our turf_ just because he says so?” He broke out into another laugh again, hand on his face. His other members laughed along, circling around you in a way that immediately set off danger alarms in your head. 

“No. Ain’t no fuckin’ way.” His face was devoid of laughter anymore. “And you know what? Tell him he can go _fuck himself_ before he gets out fuckin’ territory.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know your refusal,” You turned to leave, only to find that the way was blocked. Laugher surrounded you, as the shadows of the various dinosaurs stalked you like predators. You drew your knife into your hand, sparks of electricity running along the blade. You swivelled your head, gauging your surroundings. There were maybe ten enemies. If things got nasty, you’d be at a disadvantage. 

“You see...we have a _sponsor_...someone who gave us a better deal than that brick-headed-bastard…” their ring leader stood up, stalking over to you. You steadied yourself, fingers twitching in anticipation, teeth bared threateningly. 

“...and I think...” his eyes were glowing now, pupils slitted as his lips curled. “ _I think we should send him a message to not fuck with us again._ ”

He lunged for you and you threw your knife at him. It embedded in the side of his shoulder, deterring him but not stopping him. You rolled out of the way just in time to miss the swing of his hammer.

It was fucking huge, the head was a dense brick of metal the size of your head, adorned with studded metal spikes. 

Yeah, no, you did not want to be hit by that thing. 

Another member made a grab for you. Freeing your gun, you fired two shots, effectively trapping two of them in a web of electricity. One woman, a dino with pink and yellow fur, swung her tail to try and sweep your legs out from you. You jumped just in time, but unfortunately, their leader swung his hammer again, smashing into the side of your face and sending you flying across the room. 

You hit the wall of the warehouse with a crunch. All the air in your lungs was forced out as you fell to the ground in a heap. Your temple split open on impact, blood rolled down your cheek and soaked into your shirt. As you got up again, the group of dinosaurs had collected around their leader, hissing, and growling in delight at your pain. They were waiting for you to get up and fight them.

You spread your legs wide in a stance. Gesturing with your hand, you invited them to make the first move.

The female dino charged at you. You fired again, but the electricity didn’t seem to deter her. You rolled to the side as her tail embedded in the wall behind you. Sliding sideways, you scooped up a metal rod from the floor, then thrust it into her chest. She let out a roar, shrieking and cursing so loudly your ears rang. Her claws grappled where the pole penetrated her chest, desperately trying to remove it. It held strong, pinning her to the wall. 

You turned around, smearing blood across your cheek with the back of your hand. 7 more. 

It was easy to take out a majority of them with a few more shots, as they all were using close-range blunt objects to fight with. They dropped to the floor in spasms as the electricity flowing through him made their natural patterns pulse with light. 

However, three of the members had skin so dense that the bullets ricocheted off of their scales, whizzing through the room wildly. 

Cursing, you picked up another rod from the floor. 

Their leader swung at you, you dodged him only to be whacked again by his partner behind him. You blocked the third’s attack with the pole in your hands. He kicked you in the stomach, leaving you winded and bent over. 

You were hit over the head, and blood gathered over your vision. Another hit and you fell to your knees. You weekly brought up the pole, only for them to smack you in the face with it. You fell to the ground. 

A hammer hit your back, flattening you against the ground. You gasped for air, crying out in pain. You looked up at the leader as he removed the knife from his shoulder with a grunt. He wiped the blade clean on his shirt. 

He locked eyes with you, jaw open to show the rows of sharp teeth. “You owe me for my blood.” 

He drove the knife into the back of your hand. You screamed in agony.

There was laughter over the sound of your own screams, as you felt your ankle being shattered. 

Blow after blow, hit after hit, you were relentlessly pounded on. You felt something in your chest give under the weight of one bash, and you felt your consciousness slip from you.

Noticing this, they halted, saying something. You couldn’t make them out as your own ears were ringing in your head. Every breath felt like knives digging into your lungs. Blood trickled to your lips as you tried to form words and failed. You coughed, painting the stones below you red. 

You struggled to lift your head to be eye level with their leader again. He was looking smug and cocky, hammer braced over his shoulder. You glowered, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. 

“Just get it over with.” You rasped. “ _I dare you_.”

He frowned momentarily, huffing and shaking his head. “If that’s what you want.” 

He raised the hammer high above his head. You braced yourself for the pain. For the crushing of your organs and body, for a pain that surpassed death. Because much as you were destroyed, you’d keep on living until an angel weapon snuffed out your worthless existence. 

You wished this place would go away.

You wished you would go away. 

You wished this would all end.

You wished you were dead. 

_You wished you were dead._

You closed your eyes, waiting for what would come.

…

..

.

But nothing did.

Instead, a slick squelch of blood and skin met your ears. The awful sounds of bones breaking and tendons snapping echoed in the warehouse as gurgled screams erupted. They choked, gasping for air before begging, pleading, cursing, and screaming their throats hoarse as more tearing and ripping sounds silenced them. You kept your eyes shut out of fear, as you felt the blood splatter over you and on the ground.

You waited for the entity to do the same to you, but it didn’t come.

Your ears still rang and your vision was blurry as shoes clacked against the concrete. They grew wet as they splashed in the pools of blood before stopping at your side. 

“What a _splendid_ mess you’ve caused!” 

Your eyes shot open like someone had poured a bucket of ice onto you. As you struggled to get to your hands and knees, you realized the ringing sound you were hearing wasn’t coming from inside your head.

_It was coming from him._

The Radio Demon, Alastor, stood above you proudly with his microphone in hand. Blood had splattered across his face and the lapels of his pinstriped coat, adding more shades of red to his old-timey crimson ensemble. He wasn't the ominous cryptid you'd seen on those 'BEWARE' posters hung up around the city, but he was still intimidating. Tall, lithe, broad shoulders and sharp everything. Sharp jaw, sharp teeth, sharp claws, sharp red eyes. He smiled down at you with a grin that stretched across half his face, displaying his sharp, yellow teeth. 

_Fuck_.

Had Vox known? That this whole meeting would fail miserably? That Alastor would swoop in to take care of things?

...no...surely not, Vox wasn’t fond of Alastor in _any_ way, he’d never plan something with the intent for him to come to save one of his pawns. 

Still, had he known about the contract being bullshit? You decided to hold that thought for later, you had more important things to focus on. 

You struggled to meet Alastor’s gaze. Each time you tried to push yourself up, your chest gave, sending you back to the floor choking and coughing over your own fluids. Alastor thrust the end of his mic in your face, offering it to you. You eyed him cautiously before grasping it with your good hand. He yanked you to your feet so quickly that you were sent stumbling for a few painful steps. The handle popped out of your hands, and you nearly fell again, sliding in the slick, bloody puddles.

A bolt of pain reminded you about the knife in your hand. You gripped it firmly with your good hand and then, inhaling sharply, tugged it out in one strong pull. Fire shot through your hand as your nerves flared up in pain. You bit your lip to muffle your screams, drawing more blood into your mouth. 

You shuffled over to the pole you dropped earlier, kicking it into your hands, and leaning your weight on it. 

When you caught your breath as best you could, you focused on the dangerous being in front of you. Alastor slicked back his blood-soaked hair with one hand. It acted like a gel, holding the hair that usually fell over his eyes back between his red and black ears.

It was a well-known fact that Alastor was part deer, thought the only predominant trait of what were the two fluffy tufts upon his head, pointed towards the sky. 

He caught you staring, matching you gaze with his own stare, unblinking, and adjusted a monocle on his face.

“Why did you do that?” you croaked. You really should call Vox for assistance, but you refused to take your eyes off of Alastor for another second. 

He seemed delighted to answer your question. “No reason! It’s only been a while since I had some random fun, that’s all.”

“So why not harm me as well?”

“ _Is that a request?_ ” The static around him began to thicken. The slits of his eyes dilated back and forth into dial-shapes, warning you of the threat he still possessed. He could very well slaughter you if he so felt like it.

You had to think of your next words carefully. Did Alastor know who you were, that you were one of Vox’s belongings? If so, nothing was stopping him from taking you out right then and there. Anything to get a one-up on another overlord was fair game. 

Though perhaps that was the reason _why_ he didn’t vanquish you right then and there. Overlords, Vox especially, were very, _very_ territorial. They didn’t like their toys being taken from them. 

“No,” you finally said. “It’s not. I was just curious.”

The malice he held from earlier evaporated instantly. He cheerfully waggled his finger in the air. “That may very well kill you one day if you’re not careful! Why, if I wasn’t around to intervene…”

He trailed off, but you could only imagine the possibilities. 

“Thank you.” You said, and really you were. You’d only be in more excruciating pain if he hadn’t come when he did. “I appreciate it.”

Alastor gazed at you curiously, the type of look Vox had when he was analyzing you. You cast your eyes downwards to avoid his scrutiny. 

“Don’t be thanking me yet, dear.” 

You knew if he was going to turn hostile, you’d be no match for him. So you shut your mouth, content to let whatever thought the Radio Demon had to simmer in his mind. 

Eventually, he snapped out of his state, clapping his gloved hands together. His microphone vanished with a puff of red smoke. “Well! I best be going, lovely show you put on!” He walked past you to the entrance, cheerfully humming as he stepped over the bodies that littered the floor. You turned to watch him, refusing to let your back show to him. 

He halted at the entrance, light casting a shadow on his form. “Do be sure to let _your boss_ know…” A shiver ran through your spine as his eyes faintly glowed.

“This area is now in **_my_** possession. I won’t take kindly to returning mice.”

You shuddered at the realization- he knew who you were, he knew you were Vox’s bitch. 

“Want to tell him yourself?” you challenged, despite your better judgement. 

“HAH!” His head snapped back in an unnatural angle. When his neck cracked back into place his eyes had transformed into radio dials. The room seemed to darken as static ran over your body. Faint whispers and hisses of spirits were drowned in the cracking noises coming from him. Some were crying, others screaming or laughing. Hallucinations briefly flickered in and out of your vision depicting grotesque, inhuman, incomprehensible beings all combining into a cacophony of one threatening sentence. 

“ _Don’t push your luck._ ”

And with a breath, he was gone, leaving you with your mouth agape.

No wonder those warning posters were put up.

The atmosphere cleared up quickly, much to your relief. You released a breath, cursing when it caused pain to shoot through your chest.

Time to leave.

It was such a mess you two left, the scattered bodies and entrails, the smell of burnt skin and clothing from the ones you managed to hit with bullets.

And Alastor…

What was he thinking? Surely he hadn’t come here just for some ‘fun’. You already deduced he was probably the ‘patron’ the head of the dino gang had spoken of, but clearly he had other plans. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have helped you in defeating them. 

What was his goal? 

...too many questions, not enough answers, not enough effort for you to care right now...or at all, really. 

You scratched at some dried blood on your cheek and it came off in flakes. You were downright filthy and wanted a good soak in the bath. With dismay, you noted the rips in your clothes. You’d have to go to the tailor to get them fixed next week, on top of whatever project Vox was planning for that building of his.

Speaking of Vox, you needed to call him to update him on what had happened. You were in no condition to return to work, not to mention you’d be less than useless in your current state. You’d notify him when you got back home, (lest he insist on patching you up himself) and you made a note to give him a full report after his show tonight. 

A wave of fatigue washed over you. Things probably would have been easier had Alastor simply left you to be knocked out and left for dead.

“I’m taking the day off tomorrow…” you sighed wistfully, hobbling your way back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slamming hands on table*  
> Voxvoxvoxvoxvoxvox!
> 
> I am absolutely obsessed with his character, despite knowing next to nothing about him. I've gone ahead and ran with the crumbs given in the pilot to make this, and I'm not looking back. I also really wanted to explore an Alastor x reader fic where Vox is a central part of the plot from the get-go, and remains a constant obstacle.
> 
> So what started as just a quick self-indulgent drabble has turned into this monster of a chapter. I was just too excited to explore the idea of a hitman-ish reader, soul contracts, and of course the trouble that would occur from one of Vox's workers getting involved with the Radio Demon. 
> 
> Drama! Tension! Anticipation! Gah, I love it. 
> 
> This story will have more chapters! ;) I can't guarantee anything right now, but I have a basic outline for what I want to have happening in the future. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. What a performance!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox hosts a party celebrating the opening of his new broadcasting tower. The night goes from ok to bad to worse when the Radio Demon shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Depressive thoughts/ suicide mentions and implications
> 
> We get right into the first arc with this chapter. Buckle up.

You were relieved to find out that Vox allowed you time to recover from your injuries, and that he didn’t punish you for the quarrel with the dino gang. (It would have been pretty shitty of him if he did, considering it wasn’t _your_ decision to get into a fight with them.) 

He'd also taken the news about your run-in with Alastor better than you'd expected him to. 

“...and he let you live?” He had said over the phone. He just finished an airing of ‘Vox’s Variety: Trivia Tortue ’, a game show that forced poor, unwilling participants into answering questions. Then laughed when they repeatedly were wrong and watched them suffer the gory consequences. It was brutal. You didn’t choose to watch it, but sometimes Vox had _extra special_ episodes he chose to air, which you were forced to sit through. 

“Yes, I don’t know why either,” you said, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder so that you could wrap your injured hand with gauze. 

“Hmm, interesting...” he paused in contemplation. “Anyways, even though you can’t come in doesn’t mean you stop working. I’ll have someone come by to drop off some paperwork for you to sort through.”

You groaned. You couldn’t catch a break. 

“Come now, don’t give me that attitude,” he warned, voice ever so slightly sour. 

_Fuck_. 

“No attitude Boss,” you immediately corrected yourself. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Good…” his voice was back to its usual casual drawl. “Remember that tower I was telling you about? Well, it’s opening up in a week or so, I want you there for the opening night.”

They’d have it fully built in such a short amount of time? That surprised you. No one joked around when it came to Vox. 

“Sure, Vox. I’ll be there.” 

“Good, now rest up, _dollface_.” 

The line clicked and went dead. You stood still for a moment, listening to the _beep_ of the cut line before tossing your phone aside. You flopped down onto bed, seeking the comfort of nothingness. 

* * *

It took your body two weeks to heal from your injuries. Which was a lot, considering the average demon could have done it in half the time or less. You were on your feet again just in time for the opening night of Vox’s tower.

You ran your hand over your slicked-back hair once more, nervously tucking the stray strands behind your ears to lay curled around your neck. The sun had set over the horizon long ago, staining the sky a dark garnet. You stared up at the building in front of you. 

The _Triple V Skytree_ , as Vox has eloquently named it, stood in front of you imposingly. It was a long, onyx cylinder that stretched to the heavens (quite literally). A dome at the top had the sharp neon eyes and smile of the man himself. Unlike Valentino’s place, there was no sign or words decorating the exterior. But there was no need, as the symbols alone were enough for any demon to know who was in charge of the building.

You gave a long whistle. It was beautiful. Maybe a bit garish, but that was expected with someone like Vox. 

A gust of wind kicked up your pleated skirt. You shivered, rolling down the sleeves on your blazer. It was the same one as usual, but you had swapped your normal button-up for a fancy blouse. 

Taking a deep breath and steeling your nerves, you approached the double doors. 

“Welcome.” Another one of Vox’s lackeys greeted you at the entrance. You tensed, fingers gripping the hem of your cuffs. 

He was one of those _things_ Vox experimented on in the basement of Val’s studio. You didn’t look him in the eye. If you did, you’d have trouble sleeping again at night and have to run to Vox to solve it. You _loathed_ relying on him for comfort. You gave a brief ‘mhm’, keeping your eyes glued to the floor as you passed. 

Many gaudy demons and sinners were already crowded in the granite foyer, talking, drinking, eating the free horderves, or all of the above. You made your way straight to the elevator where there was a long line to go up into Vox’s private lounge. A big, burly, bodyguard stood there, blocking the way. You strolled past the line, ignoring the objections from the demons who had been patiently waiting. You pulled up your right sleeve and showed it to the demon blocking the door. A network of blue and white circuits lit up to form a sigil on the inside of your forearm. 

It was a bonding mark. One that had been imprinted on you the moment you sold your soul over to Vox, a long, _long_ time ago. It hadn’t faded in the slightest over the years and still tingled when it ignited under your skin. 

The bouncer immediately stepped aside and let you into the elevator. Those in line cried out at the unfair treatment before the doors slid shut and you were left in silence.

The elevator was modern, lined with LED’s that glowed and created different shapes and images using light. A koi pond formed at your feet, bringing a smile to your face as you stomped your shoes. Digital ripples chased the fish away before dissolving when the elevator arrived at the top with a _bing_. With a lighter mood, you stepped out into the lounge. 

The room was elegantly decorated with polished floors and crown moulding. Small pinpricks of light illuminated the room in colours of white, blue and green. It was bright but not too bright, allowing for a breathtaking view of the city to shine. Music thumped from all around you, loud enough that you could feel every beat in your chest. 

Vox was in the center of the room, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other held a flute of white wine. He had swapped his usual getup for a black and white plaid suit. The collar of his cerulean dress shirt was encircled with a bright red tie. Just glancing at him made your eyes hurt. 

A high squeal made your ears ring. You turned and yelped in surprise as a blur of pink, black, and white jumped you.

“Oh my gosh!! Voxy didn’t tell me you were gonna be here!” Velvet, a hyperactive Overlord and one of Vox's close business partners, had her arms around your neck. She squeezed the life out of you as her pigtails batted you in the face. She pulled away after a moment, still talking loudly as ever. 

“Oh my gosh we HAVE to take a photo- and we have to take one with Voxy and Val too! I haven’t seen you around the studio in AGES! Did you come here alone? Everyone here has a plus one, well, except me. Even Val came here with one of his workers-”

“Lady Velvet-” you tried to cut in.

But she kept rambling. “And even though Voxy doesn’t have a plus one, he refused me when I asked him, can you believe that? Voxy’s always like: ‘Vee, I have to work’ blah blah blah ‘I don’t have time for that’ blah blah blah-”

“Lady Velvet-” 

“But where’s the fun in that?! Now THIS, _this_ is FUN! Gosh, there’s so much to do! I can hardly keep up and-”

You cleared your throat loudly. “Lady Velvet!” You pointed behind her, where a group of girls stood waiting. They were in the middle of taking a photo with Velvet before she ran off.

“Oops,” she laughed. “Sorry, I’ll talk to you real soon ok?” She squeezed you one final time before she hopped off like a bunny. 

You watched her with a crooked smile, adjusting your skewed outfit. You froze when your gaze met with Vox. His eyes lit up in recognition. He turned to the circle of demons surrounding him, mouth moving silently, before smirking at you. He extended his index finger towards you and curled it inwards, in a ‘come hither’ motion. You followed his call, being pulled by the invisible bond between you two. 

“There’s my _sweetheart_ ,” He put a hand on your shoulder, showing you off to everyone. “Aren’t you just all dolled up tonight, eh?” You recognized Valentino sitting sprawled on the couch, dressed in golden furs and matching cane with a woman curled up against him.

You gave a small nod, not liking the attention at all. Serving people was ok. You didn’t have to think about what you were doing, because everything was an order, but talking? _Socializing_?

Nope. Especially not with these bunch. 

“Don’t be shy now,” Vox gave you a small nudge. “Say hi!” The various demons that surrounded you were all much taller than you (Taller than Vox too, you noted smugly). You attempted something between a curtsy and a bow.

“Hello, a pleasure to meet you all. Sirs, Madams, and all the rest.”

"Look at you, Voxy, having such a well-trianed _pet_ ," Valentino purred, blowing out a puff of red smoke from his cigarette holder. He smiled at you, golden tooth flashing in the light. "It makes me wanna take them out for a _spin_."

His tone and cocked brow indicated the ' _spin'_ was nothing short of a late-night bedroom romp. You felt the urge to gag at his words. ‘ _I’d rather jump off this building.’_

You blanched as Vox let out a bark of laughter. Right, you needed to be careful with your thoughts. Vox could always take a peak whenever he wanted to. “Come on Val, at least invite em’ out for dinner first!” 

The group laughed, though you doubted they actually found his joke funny. Thankfully, Valentino laughed as well, blowing smoke rings in the air. 

“What a funny looking thing you are,” A lady bent down to be eye level with you. She was a hell-born demon and had a beautiful array of feathers that were combed back neatly. “I’ve never seen a _fallen_ like you before, what’s your name? ”

“I...uh…” You looked to Vox for help, who wasn’t, as always. “I don’t have…one…”

“Oh right, right,” she straightened up. “Names are powerful, and your master wants to keep a firm grip on you, I’d imagine.”

“Wanna know something cool?” Vox’s sudden hand on your shoulder made you flinch. He paused for dramatic effect, making sure he had the attention of everyone surrounding him.

“This little doll right here,” he grabbed the underside of your jaw with his other hand, tilting it upwards so your neck was exposed. You swallowed, feeling like a lamb that had just walked into a pack of wolves. “They're _human._ ”

It felt like the entire room had stopped to look at you. Even the background music seemed to go quiet at the announcement. The crowd packed closer to you, hungry eyes raking over your body.

_“Human?”_

_“In hell?”_

_“Human here?”_

_“Vox has a human?”_

You wanted to hide away from them all, but backing up would mean leaning further into Vox, something that you were NOT going to do. 

“Isn’t it just amazing?” Vox released your chin at last, showing you off like a prized cow. “Not fully human, mind you, but human enough that their body is _soooo_ fragile.” 

He accentuated his point by grabbing your hand, the one that had been stabbed with a knife, and dug his claws into the gloves that covered your sensitive skin; still tender and healing. You gave a sharp yelp, pushing his arm away to try and make him let you go. He released your hand, hooking his arm around your neck and pulling you close to his chest. Your head was spinning with how fast he was handling you. 

“Now, I think that’s enough excitement for the night,” he was stroking - no, scratch that - _petting_ your hair like you were a cat. “Let’s let the little doll enjoy themself, shall we?”

You were released from his clutches, stumbling away from the group of demons gathered around Vox. Their rowdy cackles faded as you awkwardly shuffled over to the bar. 

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked. With dismay, you realized it was one of Vox’s people, just like the one at the entrance. 

You shuddered when you looked at his sunken-in eyes. “The hardest thing you’ve got.”

“Fuck toots, yer _human_?” Said a familiar voice from behind, scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Angel!” You spun around, sighing in relief when you were met with the toothy grin of the arachnid. “I...I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“Val invited me _personally_ ,” he slid into the seat next to you, a slight rouge tinting his cheeks. Angel had glammed himself up, wearing a long blonde wig and a hot pink dress that flattered what little curves he had. 

“Dry martini, baby,” he said to the barman. “And ya didn’t answer me, yer human? _Really fuckin’ human?_ ”

“Only partly. Bit stronger than a human, bit weaker than a demon or sinner. It’d still probably take an angel weapon to kill me, though. ” you settled back into your seat. “You look good, by the way.”

“What, was I not lookin’ good before?” he winked at you, though you could still tell there was the barest hint of hesitation in his voice. Something that told you he wasn’t entirely being sarcastic. “Haha...who am I kiddin’, I always look good!”

_I look good, don’t I? I look hot?_

You patted him on the shoulder, “You always look marvellous, Angel,” you said, in the most sincere, softest voice you could muster. “Really.”

He batted his lashes at you. “Aw toots, y’aint gotta butter me up like that…” He snickered. There was genuine joy in his grin as the bartender brought both of your drinks. 

You took a sip, choking on the burning liquid as it went down your throat. Angel threw his head back, cackling. “What, you can’t even handle _that_? _Wow_.”

You took another sip, without dying this time, while Angel suckled on the skewer of olives from his drink.

“Sooo, what’s new? I ain’t seen you around the studio in a while, did you piss off big daddy-o?” You shot him a look at the term he used to describe Vox. 

“No,” you coughed. “Not yet. Just slipped up a bit on my last mission. I've been recovering since then. How have things been at the studio?"

"Things have been good," Angel rubbed his finger along the rim of his drink. "Great, actually. Val booked me this gig on the twenty-third, a real fancy club from what I've heard! He actually invited me here tonight, too." 

You tried not to let your disgust for Valentino show. Angel liked him (more than like, he was slightly infatuated with him. Or his money, or power, or both), but you'd always felt uneasy with Valentino, especially after hearing rumours about his treatment of his 'employees'.

Sexual Misconduct. Abuse of Power, you name it. 

Not that those types of things made you _shocked_ , no. It was Hell. People like him were nasty like that.

But still, you didn't like Valentino. You disliked him even more than you disliked Vox. 

"That's great," you said, forcing yourself to smile for Angel's sake. "Maybe if I'm off, I can come watch you perform." 

You two talked back and forth for a while, downing drinks, challenging each other with shots, becoming breathless over progressively less funny jokes the more inebriated you became. Angel managed to drag you out on the dance floor for one song, in which you completely forgot how to function when he started rolling and shaking his hips; some fangled new dance you couldn't comprehend. 

By now you were thoroughly intoxicated, nursing the last few ounces of liquor from your glass. Angel had been oddly quiet for the past few minutes, elbows resting against the countertop as he stared blankly out over the room. 

“Angel?” you gave him a slight nudge, turning to see what he might have been looking at. “You ok, bud?”

“...how does,” his eight eyes opened and blinked briefly, pupils dilated. “How does Vox drink?” 

...That was a good question. Never once did you see him attempt to drink from the glass in his hand. You knew he had a tongue and mouth but could he consume things? Or would it cause him to short circuit? 

“I dunno,” you drained the remainder of your glass in one gulp. “Maybe he just, like, digitally transfers it, who knows…”

You slid off of the stool, hip popping when you stretched. “I gotta get some air, wanna join me?”

Angel’s eyes were lidded as he bit down on his bottom lip. You followed his eye towards Valentino, lying back on one of the sofas, drunk or high or both. Angel’s cheeks flushed again.

Oh, _Ohhhhh_. Puppy love. 

“Nah thanks babe,” he stood up as well, abandoning his fourth martini. “I’ll see ya around. Try not to have too much fun without me, y’here?”

You shot him a wonky finger gun. Angel responded by giving your bottom a quick slap, causing you yelp in shock. He bounced away, cackling while you rolled your eyes, unable to help the small smile that came on your face. 

* * *

You escaped to the rooftop of the Skytree with a relieved gasp, opening the door to the beautiful night sky. Because you were so high up, the air was thinner than usual and the temperature was a bit nippy. Despite this, when you looked out over the ledge of the building, your palms started to sweat. There were no guard rails, one wrong move and you’d be ketchup on the pavement.

With a deep breath, you carefully climbed onto the ledge and took a seat. You kicked your legs in the air, gangling above the millions of sinners going on about their afterlives below. There were no stars in the sky, but the various lights scattered around the city acted as a close second. The longer you stared out into the city below, the less scared you felt about how high up you were. 

It was amazing to see how much the outcasts of heaven worked and created their own society. It wasn’t ‘good’ by any means, but for the collective population to come together and form something even _remotely_ habitable was a huge accomplishment. 

...but, it still was a bureaucratic system built on greed, violence and depravity.

Your mind wandered to the people inside. Rich, narcissistic demons smiling and laughing while looking for a way to outsmart those standing next to them. All talking, laughing, saying nothing and too much at the same time. Their laughter hurt your ears, their eyes made you want to crawl away to your bed and never come out. Without Angel, you felt claustrophobic and trapped in the room. No one _cared_ for each other there, they were all riding the high of the night for their own pleasures, seeking ways to further their own agendas. 

You thought about Vox, the way he touched you, spoke about you, paraded you around like an animal at the zoo, his claws digging into you, just to watch you dance for him. 

You dug your nails into your skin. It stung, knowing your life wasn’t your own, that your happiness was kept on a ball and chain by Vox. It stung but you preferred it over an emotion slowly creeping into your bones - apathy. 

It stung, knowing how sad and alone you felt despite being surrounded by people. 

You pulled a cigarette from your pocket. You weren’t a smoker, but it helped to take the edge off of your depressive thoughts. You struck a match against the stone, cursing when it was immediately blown out.

“Need a light?” A voice nearly made you fall off the roof. You whipped around to see the familiar red and black ear tufts of the Radio Demon. Alastor was dressed in his usual red suit jacket, though this time he was (thankfully) free of blood. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” You asked accusingly. You thought he _hated_ Vox, what was he doing showing up to the rooftop of _his fucking building_?

“I was just passing through the area when I saw the _most pitiful_ _little darling_ all by their lonesome,” he came close to you, resting his elbow on the ledge and propping his head upon his hand. “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t ask what was troubling them?” His other hand held his microphone, supporting his weight as he leaned close to you. 

What kind of person is just ‘passing by’ on a rooftop of their enemy’s building?

“Don’t call me _that,_ ” you muttered through clenched teeth. 

"What?"

"Darling." It was Hell. You needed to look as strong as you could, and being called terms of affection didn't help you at all. It wasn't a matter of preference, it was simply self-preservation. 

He chuckled. “And just what _would_ you like me to call you?”

You said nothing, you didn’t want him to call you anything because you didn’t want him to talk to you. You kicked yourself when you realized you didn’t have your gun nor your knife. You didn’t think you’d need it, stupidly _._ It figured you’d end up running into the Radio Demon of all things, _again_.

When you didn’t answer him he hummed in disapproval. “Not one for talking, I see. That’s a shame, you were _so talkative_ last time we met.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine, remembering the details from the fight weeks ago. The Blood, Alastor’s threats. He smirked at your reaction, eyes glowing faintly. A distant scream bounced through the air between you two, sounding much too similar to your voice for your liking. 

You remained in silence, sizing Alastor up. After not having said anything in response for a while, he sighed.

“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” he stood up and dramatically offered you his hand. _“Alastor!_ Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart! Mind if I take a seat?”

You warily raised an eyebrow at his display. Maybe if you were more sober and less gloomy, you’d try and interrogate him more about his intentions, or you’d be more opposed to him being next to you.

But, you weren’t.

“....do what you want to do,” you said, ignoring his hand. 

Joyfully, he took a seat beside you, putting his microphone between his spread legs. “Beautiful weather tonight, isn’t it?”

“I thought you said you had a light?” you complained, taking the unlit cigarette out of your mouth and between your fingers.

“Will you answer me if I do?”

“ _Nope_.”

A laugh track sounded from him. “At least you’re honest! Anyways, this little _fun_ event,” he stopped to scoff at his own words, “...has _so many interesting characters_ , yet you’ve still left; Fled from the action just to sit outside on the roof!”

“You would want to spend your evenings fraternizing with _my boss_?” You felt it’d be best to keep Vox’s name off your tongue when talking with Alastor.

He buzzed a little at that. “Most definitely **_not_ **! But I assume our reasons for being out here are quite different.” 

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

“That’s a secret, I’m afraid!”

You knew better than to try and reveal his own, trying to do so would be a waste of time. Sighing, you resigned youreslf to sitting in silence with your new companion. 

Alastor started playing an old song (from where exactly, you were unsure of) to fill the silence, the distorted notes crackled through the night air. The side of your body closest to him was still tense, but you felt _almost_ relaxed. 

After a while, a metallic clink caught your attention. You turned your head to see Alastor flipping a coin with his thumb. When he saw you staring, his chest puffed out with pride. He flipped the coin to his other hand smoothly and offered it to you. 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You sighed tiredly. He really wouldn’t give it up, would he? “It’s gonna take a _lot more_ than a penny to get me to-”

With a snap and a flourish of his wrist, a handful of bills manifested where the coin was. Alastor waved them in front of your face. You blinked in shock, before narrowing your eyes dubiously at the man. He smiled cheekily as you took them from him, counting them. 

“Are these...world war one bonds...?”

“Yes, yes, that’s not important,” Alastor waved his hand dismissively. “Now do tell me, what’s going on in that mind of yours?” He was like a child, staring at you with an insatiable curiosity. 

You were silent for a while. Alastor was beginning to think you weren’t going to say anything at all when you suddenly stood up. You turned to face him, feet dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

If he wanted to know so badly, you’d give him something to think about. 

“Why do we do anything, _Radio Demon?_ " you started. "What’s life? Not ‘what's the meaning’, or whatever. Because the truth is there isn’t any. It’s just what it is. No, why do we run around, living our lives like rats, as _god’s failures_ , when we could all just give it up?”

You took a moment to breathe and to let Alastor answer if he wanted. He remained unusually silent, lips pressed together politely. So you continued. 

“There are things people want to do, to experience before they die. But what then? What do they do when they realize _‘this is it’_ ?” you gestured around you in the air. “Why bother living in the first place? In a world where things will _always_ get progressively worse, where people don’t change, _where people don’t learn_. History repeats itself endlessly...” 

The corner of Alastor’s mouth twitched. 

“Why bother going through the pain and suffering just to be happy? Is it really worth it?” You weren’t looking at Alastor anymore, instead of staring at a fixed point on the roof. “...Maybe for others, it is. But for me, I can’t live for a future I don’t believe in.”

Silence, except the howling of the wind.

“ _...‘Life’s supposed to be hard’, ‘Life’s not fair’, ‘You have to learn how to do this, it’s a part of life’.._.” You mocked the words from a past life you used to have, bitterly. “Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of that.”

You laughed. Because really, what else was there to do in this situation, Drunk and venting to the goddamn _Radio Demon_ of all things. Your voice started to shake. “Sometimes I don’t even know if I’m _not ok_ , because I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t feel anything, or I’m angry, I’m scared, then I’m angry again. But mostly it's just - indifference.”

Your hands were trembling, you clenched them into fists. “I’ve never stopped caring, or empathizing, I just...I couldn’t be bothered to deal with it anymore. Bad day? Shrug it off, it can’t be helped. Swindled a sinner out of their life because your boss said so? Oh well! Not your problem... Pain doesn’t go away, it festers deep inside of a person. It makes them want to tear into their skin and crawl out of it, To slam their fists into their head just to get a break.” Alastor’s eyes had glazed over with an unknown emotion at your detailed descriptions. It made sense, he’d like that type of talk. He probably would want to _watch_ you do those things to yourself.

He probably wanted to do those things _to you_ himself. 

“This thing, this thing with-” you caught yourself before you said ‘Vox’ “-my boss. It sucks. I _asked him to use me_ , and I still hate it. I’m more dead than alive, and I can’t even die. I just hurt.” you laughed, but it sounded more like a strained wheeze.

_“Maybe I’m not meant to be happy.”_

“Hmm,” Alastor finally spoke up, hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well I can’t say I can understand your struggles, but I do find them quite interesting!” A laugh track echoed faintly, an attempt to break up the solemn atmosphere you created. You snorted. 

“If I may - living beings are selfish. Selfish in life and selfish in death. They don’t give up on life because they _want something_ out of life. To the point where they will suffer through unimaginable pain just to keep on living one more day, one more minute, one more _second_. It’s why the rotten, disgusting creatures of this world struggle and fight tooth and nail for their desires - they have ambition. Without ambition, you might as well be dead!”

You pondered his words. What ambition did you have then? To go to heaven? No, you couldn’t believe in a heaven where angels killed demons for sport each year, where they justified their actions by insisting that ‘they deserve it’. What did they know about a ‘deserving’ death?

“...And for me _personally_ ,” he gripped a fist in one hand, talking passionately. “Suffering and pain only makes life more enjoyable! Violence and depravity are _exciting and constantly changing_ , whereas peace and harmony are the same, predictable routines. Take a story for example, it wouldn’t be _nearly_ as entertaining if there was no conflict or tension!”

You admitted, he had a point. “But what happens when you put nothing _but suffering_ in your story? When you offer your readers nothing but constant failure and no payoff, you _still_ lose them.” 

“I guess it depends on the reader then, doesn’t it?” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “Like myself, _some people_ are morbidly curious too.” His eyes were glowing again after his speech. 

You tilted your head up. The clouds in the sky had parted to reveal the faint halo of heaven, something forever out of your reach. Would you have been happier there, in a peaceful, harmonic place? Or would you just be the same person in a different environment? 

You cast your gaze down again, the dark void called out to you. The ground below reached out in an inviting hug, promising to wrap you up in its care and offering peace of mind. 

Just one step backwards, gravity would do the rest.

“My dear,” Alastor's voice broke through your thoughts. It was quieter than usual, but still held that peppy flit to it. “If you’re going to jump, may you at least tell me so I can get a good view?”

You laughed again.

And stepped.

Landing back on the roof with a thud. 

“You’d be the first to know.” 

“Wonderful,” he stood up, adjusting his monocle and straightening his suit. “I hope that satisfied your questions.”

You did feel a bit better, but only a bit. You shrugged, sitting back down on the ledge. “Sorta. Did I satisfy yours?” 

He laughed brashly. “Yes! You have been a wealth of information!”

“Information?” You were suspicious again. “What do you mean?”

“It’s getting cold out,” Alastor pretended to shiver, ignoring you. “Would you care to be escorted inside?”

Right, it figured you wouldn’t get a straight answer. He offered you his arm.

Well, no use trying to figure out an enigma no one has cracked. 

“...I’m gonna stay out for a bit. Thank you, though.” 

And probably won’t ever crack. 

Alastor seemed stunned at your refusal. He stayed still for a heartbeat, like someone had pressed ‘pause’ on him before he straightened up with a spin of his arm. “Suit yourself!”

As he walked away you noticed the red shapes imprinted on the bottom of his shoes. They looked like deer prints. Now that you mentioned it, his ears (???) resembled those of a deer as well. That almost had you laughing. One of the most powerful beings hell has ever seen is part deer? How ironic. He wasn’t _nearly_ as innocent as a deer, he was a wolf in deers clothing. 

“And another thing,” he snapped his fingers, the cigarette in your hand flashed for a second before it started smoking. You had forgotten you were even holding it. “For compensation.” He left the roof, shutting the door behind him. 

The more interactions you had with Alastor, the more he mystified you. You spun around, swinging your feet in the air again. You placed the cigarette to your lips, each worrying thought you had disappeared with each puff of smoke you took. 

\---

“Where the fuck did you go?” Angel was back by the bar when you returned. You had stayed out for as long as you could handle it. When your cigarette had been burned to just a stub and your fingers had started to go numb, you decided to go back inside. “All the way to the ninth circle and back?”

“No, just needed a long breather.” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. “It wasn’t all that bad, I had company.”

“O’ really?” Angel cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

You shook your head. “You’re not gonna believe it, it’s that-”

Wait.

Had Alastor been invited to the party? Was he SUPPOSED to be here? Was he in the room right now? If so, you were sure something bad was going to happen. You cursed the alcohol for clouding your mind. If you were sober you would have come to this realization sooner. 

“...I gotta go.” urgency shot through you. You needed to find Vox. 

“What?! You can’t blue-ball me like that- WHO?”

But you were already gone, stumbling and pushing people aside to find the brick-headed demon. He had thankfully stayed around the same area, in the middle of a very animated conversation with Prince Stolas. 

“Vox?” you asked hurriedly, looking around to see if you could spot Alastor.

“Excuse me?” his eyes narrowed at your rude interruption _and_ lack of manners. 

“-Boss. Forgive me- pardon the interruption, Prince Stolas.” You curtsied briefly. “Did you invite the Radio Demon by any chance?”

The room came to a screeching halt. Oops, you were probably louder than you had originally thought. Add another tally on the ‘curses to the alcohol’ chart.

Vox turned slowly, fully to you. He placed his hands on your shoulder, putting his face much too close to yours. “ _Are you joking?_ ”

“ _Afraid not!_ ” You all turned to see Alastor who had appeared out of nowhere, arms behind his back and microphone in hand. The demons around him startled at his sudden appearance, scurrying away to give him plenty of room. “Good evening, _Vox_.” he hissed with poorly concealed venom. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Vox whistled, breathless. “Alastor! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He stretched his arms out, slowly stalking his way towards Alastor. “I’ve never seen you accept any of my invitations before.”

“My, how busy you’ve been. Look at this building you’ve put up!” Alastor gestured around him grandly. “Not very practical, but you’ve never been one for proficiency.” His smile was still there, but it was more like he was bearing his teeth than anything. 

You tried to step back to the sidelines, but an electric current running through your nerves rooted you in place. 

_‘Vox, what the hell? Let me go!’_

‘ _Quiet_.’

“That’s rich, the guy stuck in the 1930’s talking to me about proficiency,” Vox laughed, shoving his hands in his pocket. “At least I know when to splurge on style. Pinstripes sill, Alastor?”

“Careful Vox,” Alastor warned, grip tightening on his microphone. The shadows at his feet were starting to morph into shapes. “You’re the one wearing tacky squares. Know your place.”

“I know exactly where I belong, Alastor. _Do you_?”

“ _Vox_.” Alastor snarled. He was completely different from when he was talking to you earlier. His whole body was tense and produced an endless flow of white static. “Quit. It.”

“As prickly as ever,” Vox sighed, actually sounding disappointed. “And here I thought you were actually warming up to me. You seemed to be getting along with my assistant just fine the other night.”

‘ _Don’t bring me into this shit, Vox!_ ’

 _‘QUIET_.’

You bit your tongue, unable to do anything but watch. 

“ _Your assistant_ seems to be much more reasonable than you,” Alastor wasn’t looking at you. Which you were thankful for, you wouldn't be able to handle it if he was staring at you as well. “You, on the other hand, are a brute.”

“Takes one to know one, Al,” Vox shrugged. “Are you here just to complain, or are you ready to talk business?” There was an odd elation in Vox’s words, as if he was _excited_ about this whole situation. 

“Don’t kid yourself,” Alastor said flatly. “ _We both know how well your deals work out_.”

“Oh come on, you only say that because of our last _little partnership_ ,” Vox’s screen glitched as he laughed, coming to a stop 5 feet in front of Alastor. Any closer and you were positive that Alastor would have snapped. “Still having a hissy fit about that?” Vox’s tone was teasing, you could tell he was enjoying himself. 

“Don’t test me, Vox. You’re lucky you’re still standing.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do?”

By now the whole room had come to a complete standstill, waiting breathlessly to see if a fight would break out. A fight between two normal demons would be nothing to blink at, but a fight between two of the most powerful overlords? Vox nor Alastor would care about anyone unlucky enough to accidentally get caught in their crossfire.

Vox and Alastor challenged each other with equal stares, neither one refusing to back down. The air was trembling from the force of Al’s static and Vox’s electricity pushing against each other. 

“Fortunately for _you_ ,” Alastor finally spoke. “I don’t intend to harm anyone here today. I’m here to wish you luck, Vox.” 

The room relaxed slightly with a sigh. Vox raised an eyebrow, begging Alastor to continue. 

“I know what you’re planning,” Alastor tilted his head, his voice sounded low and gurgly, with barely any interference to it. “And if you _think_ you can usurp what belongs to me, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Times are changing Alastor. You may have been the best back in your day, but the world has changed. And with it, so do the wants of the public.” Vox shook his head. “Besides, no one wants to listen to a burned-out gezer talk on the-”

A high pitched squeal ripped through the air. Everyone in room rushed to cover their ears. Even Vox’s screen momentarily glitched out. You clamped your hands over your ears, but it still was still unbelievably loud. The noise crept inside of you and vibrated in your bones.

“This may be your territory, Vox,” Alastor’s breath was ragged, each word was clear and concise over the noise he was producing. “ _But disrespect me like that once more, and I will **tear** this place to the ground if it is the ___last thing I do_. _”

The sound lessened slowly. Your ears had popped from the noise, and everything was muffled as you slowly peeled your hands away.

Alastor brushed his suit clean. “Remember. I was here before you, and I will be here once you’re gone too.” He turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Vox’s smile turned sinister. Your gut wrenched as his usual electronic feedback fizzled and popped as he started to play music from himself. 

_~Video killed the radio star, video killed the radio star~_

The song was corrupted, looping the one line over and over again eternally. Alastor froze dead in his tracks. You could only imagine the look on his face as his whole body trembled, rage slowly building. His form was starting to bubble slightly, an indication that he was dancing the lines between his normal form and his true demon form. He slammed the end of his microphone into the ground, a sonic boom of static and sound destroyed the song and shattered all the windows and glasses in the room. 

Holy fuck. You gulped. 

Alastor stepped over to the blown-out windows and turned around, the heels of his feet hovering in the air.

“Good night ladies and gentlemen!” He bowed in classic showman fashion. His eyes shifted to Vox, fully shaped into dials that waved back and forth recklessly. 

“.... _et pour tu, Vox,_ ” He crackled, the shadows surrounding him scratched at the walls and floors, desperately trying to get away from him. “ _Bonne chance, tu vas en avoir besoin._ ” 

He stepped backwards, free-falling over the edge, and was gone.

Vox frowned, clicking his tongue as he surveyed the destruction Alastor caused. The electric feeling holding you in place was released. Your legs wobbled briefly as you got back control of your own body. The music in the room started up again, albeit a bit wonky, and everyone fell back into their prior activities as best as they could. 

“You.” Vox snapped his fingers at you. “Come here.”

You did what you were told, a bundle of nerves coiled in your stomach. Vox grasped your chin, bending your face up. “When I say ‘Quiet’,” a course of electricity sparked through you, not a lot, but enough to jolt you. “ _I mean it._ Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boss.” 

His grip tightened. You wanted to throw up. “Yes _Master._ ” you whispered.

“Good,” He released you, patting your head. You wanted to punch his stupid face in and shatter it into a million pieces. “You’ll be staying behind to help clean all of this up when everyone is gone.” He turned and walked away, shoes crushing glass under his heel. 

You remained still in the center of the room. No one was paying attention to you anymore. They were all whispering and talking about the Radio Demon’s appearance. You could faintly hear Velvet from across the room babbling about the video she got on her phone. 

You felt a lot, confusion with Alastor, anger at Vox, disgust - also at Vox - and shame for yourself. For the words he pulled from your mouth. 

Your thoughts drifted back to Alastor. His cryptic statements bounced around in your head. He had said you were a ‘wealth of information’, and warned Vox about ‘getting too cocky’. 

You frowned, cocky about what? Whatever he meant, it seemed like only Vox and Alastor understood each other. You were kept in the dark as usual. 

Alastor still rubbed you the wrong way. You trusted him as far as you could throw him. The last thing you wanted to do was get further involved with whatever he was planning. And with the stunt he just pulled, you _knew_ you’d run into him again. 

At least you could surprise him next time by speaking french.

What a weird detail to get stuck on, Alastor being bilingual. 

You sighed, rubbing your face in your hands as a wave of exhaustion rolled over you. You didn’t sign up for this tonight. You wished you could go home and just sleep, but now you had to stay late because of your big mouth. 

_Because of Vox._

Had he been just a bit nicer to you at the end, maybe you would have told him what Alastor had said in french. 

“ _And for you, Vox. Good luck, you’re going to need it._ ”

You wanted to believe it had just been for show, that Vox and Al were just shooting false threats back and forth. But the two had a long and complicated history, and right now, you had a bad feeling this was only the beginning. That this was the catalyst for things to come in the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! To all the lovely, amazing comments on the first chapter! It really makes my day and gives me the confidence to write when I read them. 
> 
> Things to note:  
> -This Fic takes place BEFORE the opening of the Hazbin Hotel  
> -Reader understands some french (I'll make sure to have translations as part of the chapter or in the notes)  
> \- Vox and the reader have a connection, as you've noticed. They can communicate through certain thoughts, and Vox's power is somewhat shared with the reader.  
> -Angel dust doesn't hate Valentino. Quite the opposite (as of this chapter)  
> -The reader is gender-neutral  
> I've always Headcannoned that Vox can only speak English, though because he's a TV, he'd probably know more than one language. 
> 
>   
> This chapter ended up being WAY longer than I thought it would have. I was even going to put more, but I had to cut it for length's sake. I was fortunate to know exactly where I was going with this chapter, to have the time to write this chapter AND the motivation. It still took a week to write.  
> My original goal was to have roughly a chapter every week or so, but I may have to shoot for three instead. 
> 
> I want to plan all the remaining chapters for this arc before I get started on writing the next chapter, so it's gonna take a bit longer to come out.
> 
> I've also started posting sneak peeks/ extras on my twitter and Tumblr, feel free to talk or reach out to me!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Twitter/ tumblr:  
> @comfeyworks


	3. Business as usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another normal day for the reader, where they meet new people and run into old ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood + violence warning. 
> 
> The world of Hazbin Hotel and its characters belong to Vivziepop.

You jerked the wheel of your car to the right, narrowly missing a brick that was hurled off from the vehicle in front of you. 

The sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the city orange, yellow, and red. It was a hot evening but you barely felt it now, speeding down the most populated highway in Hell at one hundred and fifty-two kilometres per hour. 

The telltale ring in your pocket made you awkwardly shift in your seat to pull it out. You kept one hand on the wheel as you brought your phone to your ear with the other hand. 

“I’m a little busy right now,” you answered, dodging a piece of scrap metal. 

“Care to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” Vox asked, sounding frighteningly calm. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“I’d love to hear it.”

You sighed, thinking back to the events that happened earlier in the day...

  
  


“ _Good morning ladies and gentlemen of Hell!_ It’s another wonderful day in Pentagram city and today we’ve got an amazing lineup for you all.

Starting your morning off, we have a wonderful special in decor that will add a KILLER look to your furniture. In the afternoon, come join us for back-to-back lineups of our Delightfully Devilish Drama spectaculars that are sure to cause an uproar in your households and distract you from your own life problems! Finally, to end the night off, our _Satanic Sunday’s_ guest is Hell’s very fashionable and poppy superstar, **Velvet!** Who’s here to spill the beans and open up about all the latest gossip and drama this side of the circle has to offer!

You won’t want to miss it! Believe me; you’re in for a real treat!” 

As the transmission cut and his looming face was no longer streaming on every television in the west side of The Pentagram, Vox sat back with a satisfied sigh. 

Business was booming. Ever since a video of Alastor showing up to his party had gone viral, ( _THE RADIO DEMON VS THE TV DEMON FIGHT (10000% REAL ) **NOT CLICKBAIT**_ ) sinners all over Hell were crawling over one another to get involved with him. 

Vox smirked, putting his hands behind his head. Yes, things were all going according to plan.

“Boss.”

He turned towards the door. You stood between the door frame of his new office. One of your sleeves was ripped clean off and a strange blue substance soaked the bottom of your pants. “Are you finished with me?”

Ah, he’d forgotten about your task. “Hi Doll, finished taking out the trash?”

If the dark, tired circles under your eyes were any indication, you certainly were.

“Yes,” you pulled your greasy hair from your face, which had fallen out of place from your night’s activities.

You hadn’t gotten any sleep. Those sinners vandalizing Vox’s shop hadn’t gone down without a fight.

But they still went down - you thought mirthfully as you wiped your hands on the front of your shirt - with their heads smashed in by TV’s. A reminder and warning for all to show who they messed with. It was a ghastly M.O that Vox had begun requesting more frequently. 

It coated the screens with a bit more grime, but you could still watch shows on them. 

“Perfect, just as I expected of you,” Vox grinned, coaxing his little worker forward with his claws. 

He grabbed your arm and tugged you forward harshly. You grimaced as he rolled up your sleeve (the one still there) to your elbow, hands twitching towards your bonding mark. He turned your arm over in his hand, the array of symbols and lights flashed under his gaze. 

“Your clothes need to be fixed," He murmured.

“Yes I know.” 

“Go visit Velvet,” He laid back in his chair, letting go of your arm. “You’ve still got other clothes to be mended, don’t you?”

Countless. Including the ones from your first encounter with the Radio Demon...

“I haven’t had much of a chance-”

“You’re aware she’s an expert seamstress, right? Most of her clothes are made by her other workers, but it’s still a hobby of hers…among _other_ things. She’s really a Jack of all trades….or Jill, I suppose.”

You didn’t have the strength to feel upset with him interrupting you. “I’ll give her a visit then.”

“While you’re there, would you mind making sure she gets to the interview tonight?”

‘Would you mind’, like you had a choice in the matter.

“Remind her or escort her?”

A glitch ran across his smile. “Well, since you insist...”

Looks like you could say goodbye to any hope of sleeping now. You took deep breaths to steady your anger and grouchiness. 

Vox had slowly been acting brattier since _that_ night. You assumed it was because he felt some sort of pride in getting Alastor so thoroughly worked up, but his fickle attitude was becoming a common occurrence. Your usual workload had doubled and more often than naught, you were completely worn out by the time you finished your duties. Sometimes you didn’t even bother making it to your bed before you passed out. Hell, one time you woke up in a private room of Val’s studio, just laying on the couch in complete darkness

It felt like some kind of sick experiment Vox was playing to see how much you can handle.

“Ok Boss,” You bowed and went to leave. 

“Wait.” 

You wanted to strangle him and his stupid thimble-neck. You inhaled sharply, letting your impatience simmer inside of you. He gave a prideful smile.

“There’s another thing I need you to drop off.”

___

You bounced your leg, biting your lip nervously as the elevator descended into the basement of Porn Studios. 

The three ‘V’ Overlords had their own separate rooms in this basement where they could carry out whatever private business they needed to. With the skytree now built, Vox had probably moved everything he owned into the new building…

...probably.

The elevator doors slid open with a hiss, revealing three sets of hallways. 

Velvet’s and Val’s hallways were both modern and designed very sleekly, with Val’s to your left and Velvet’s straight ahead of you. Both hallways were very well lit.

But Vox’s…

To your right, it was completely dark. Unnaturally dark. You couldn’t see the end of the hallway, like some strange source was keeping it hidden.

You shuddered. A disturbing feeling of being watched sent chills down your spine. You hurried forward into Velvet’s hall and into her room.

A gaggle of demons were sitting on a large sofa in the middle of the room. It reminded you a bit like a sleepover if super powerful and popular demons had sleepovers in Hell... 

Their eyes turned and looked at you. You suddenly felt awkward. 

“Umm...”

“Hiya again!” Velvet chirped, abandoning her nest on the couch. “Come to join the party? You have got to meet - oh my gosh your clothes are filthy!” She recoiled from you instantly.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Vox wanted to know if you could fix them...?” you held out a woollen sack that was stuffed with your tattered clothes. 

“Of course I can. And I can get you something less hideous looking too!”

“…I’d prefer if you just fixed them, please.” You liked your clothes, as simple as they were. If Velvet had her way, you’d be stuck here all day with the different outfits and clothes she’d force upon you.

She pouted, crocodile tears forming in her eyes. “Pleasseeee? Just a _teensy_ little bit of pink?”

You caved. “Oh alright, just a little. _Very little."_

Velvet squeaked, clapping her hands together happily. She dragged you over to a nearby table and sat you down. “You just stay right there, I’ll find my sewing kit and BRB, Kay?” She trotted off into another part of the room, taking your bag and leaving you all on her own.

“Sooo....you’re Vox’s ‘worker’, right?” A demon from the couch spoke up.

You straightened your back, squaring your shoulders. “Yes.”

She leaned forward, voice lowering slightly. “Did you hear about the news with him and the Radio Demon?”

Your stomach clenched. “What news?”

She pulled out her phone, flashing you the screen. The article’s headline was printed in bold red letters. 

_‘HELLYORK TIMES: CLASHING FEUD BETWEEN THE TWO KINGPINS OF MEDIA???_

After **_The Radio Demon’s_** sudden appearance at **TV Demon Vox’s** private gala, an ongoing fight for dominance in the entertainment industry has been raging between the two overlords. 

While Vox’s control over Pentagram City steadily grows each day, The Radio Demon has gone on numerous rampages in the third and fourth circles during the past few months. He had broadcasted these massacres on station 5.55, a wavelength that Vox had been in control of up to that point, and one he famously stole from the Radio Demon back in 1958. (You can read about our story on that event here.)  
Meanwhile, the TV Demon has flaunted his power to the Radio Demon countless times, showing off his increasing hold of the media in Hell.  
Vox has now gained ownership of 75 % of the TV stations and a couple of radio towers inside and out of Pentagram City. Alastor’s grip on his own possessions remains firm. Sources say…’

There had been hundreds of similar articles that had come out after the sky tree fiasco. Everywhere you went, newspapers, magazines, news programs, all discussed the same thing.

_‘THE RADIO DEMON SPOTTED AT THE TV DEMON’S PARTY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A MILLENIUM???’_

‘The Eden Mag: Secret love affair between Alastor and Vox?’

_‘RADIO DEMON ALASTOR AND TV DEMON VOX PRIVATE CONVERSATION (1000% REAL!!! NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (VOX SAID WHAT???)’_

_‘Brimstone Tribune: Just what happened on the night of Vox’s Ball? And how it could affect YOU.’_

They had all been the same gossipy, garbage stories that blew the facts out of proportion and spread rumours. But in the months since then, you hadn’t been aware of the silent duel between Vox and Alastor for control. It made your stomach turn uncomfortably. If you didn’t even know that, _what else_ didn’t you know?

You narrowed your eyes in confusion. You weren’t concerned with Vox’s business before or what happened to him. Why did you now care all of a sudden?

“Crazy stuff, right?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by the demon’s voice. 

“I heard that if this continues, an all out war will break out between them, just like the last time!” One demon with curlers in her hair spoke. 

“D’ya think Vox’ll win again?” Another one said.

“No of course not! Al will win, I’m sure of it!”

“You only say that because you _looooovvvveee_ him!”

“I do NOT! Take that back-”

“Ever since 1945 you’ve loved him! Just admit it!”

An argument broke out between the group, everyone talking over each other. Their shrill voices made your temples to painfully throb. You rubbed them and groaned - you were too tired to deal with this.

“Found ‘em!” Velvet returned with a box in hand and a tape measure around her neck. “Oh jeez.” She regarded the demons scratching and tearing holes in her couch. 

“Oh well,” She giggled, setting the sewing kit down beside you. “That couch had to go anyways - hold _reeeeaaaal_ still alright?” She threaded a needle and pierced the cloth on your arm. 

\---

Velvet occupied her own territory in a gothic quarter of hell. The shiny cobblestone and posh taverns were a jarring difference from the usual cracked cement and seedy restaurants that occupied the rest of the city. 

Dressed in your fixed clothes, (with only small stripes of pink and a new colourful tie.) you stood in front of an old looking tower. 

Velvet had sent you out to her laboratory because you were ‘in desperate need of a pick me up’, according to her. You didn’t know much about Velvet in terms of her power…but you _did_ know she was skilled in chemistry of all forms. Food, drink, love, and actual chemistry, maybe even alchemy.

Needless to say, you knew whatever was waiting for you would help with your exhaustion. There was still Vox’s _other_ request on top of escorting Velvet to the interview tonight, and you were already starting to feel sluggish. You figured you may as well try and get some energy into you.

You’re being honest, you would have just settled for an iced coffee. 

You took hold of the door knocker, rapped it against the door twice, then waited a minute.

No answer. 

Odd, Velvet said there would have been one of her ‘employees’ inside, some other sinner tied to their master. Like you and Vox or Angel and Valentino. 

The door opened when you pushed it. You took a cautious step past the door frame and ducked immediately with a yelp. A flying projectile grazed the hairs on your head before shattering on the stone pathway behind you. A lime green liquid hissed and ate away at the stone. 

“W-who are you!?” 

A very frightened...fish? Was curled up on the lab bench, a pair of tongs clutched in his shaking hands. He appeared to be brewing something, judging from the many beakers and tourniquets that were bubbling in the lab. The scent of burnt almonds flooded your nostrils. 

“I’m an associate of Lady Velvet, she sent me here to receive something?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed under his goggles. He unfurled himself from the bench, still clutching the tongs tightly. “H-how do I know y-y-you’re not lying?”

You extended a small note towards him, written in Velvet’s large, loopy cursive. Most of the words were ineligible to you.

The boy slowly and very hesitantly approached you. He quickly snatched the note with the tongs and read it over. After his eyes twitched over the writing a few times, he tucked it away in his coat. 

“Follow me. A-and d-don’t touch anything, got it?” 

You nodded, and he led you both into the basement through a trapdoor.

Your entire body was tense at the claustrophobic dampness and dark of the cellar. The only light source came from the strange illicium that hung in front of the boy’s face.

Was he like an Angelfish? You thought curiously, wondering what must have happened for him to turn into one after death. 

The more you tried to stay close to him, the more the fins on the side of his head flared out, and the more distance he put between you two. 

“I didn’t catch your name,” you asked to distract yourself from the oppressing shadows. He was similar to you, a sinner chained to a life of servitude. It couldn’t hurt to try and be friendly.

Or maybe that was just an excuse for what you really wanted.

You frowned. What was with you today? _Wanting_ things...

“Do you n-need it?” he replied. Despite his stutter, his words didn’t sound frightened. He sounded more annoyed more than anything.

“I don’t _need it_ , but I’d like to know it.”

He didn’t say anything back. You decided not to push it. An awkward silence returned as you held yourself tighter.

Damn Vox, you hated basements because of him. 

He stopped suddenly at a shelf of vials and bottles. Each one was a different colour and size. He murmured to himself and ran his fingers along the labels of the bottles until he plucked one between his hands. 

“This is t-t-the one. Let’s go.” 

With relief, you two returned to the main floor. He set the vial down on the bench for you to pick it up (so he wouldn’t have to touch you when passing it over) and returned to his station, adjusting the knob on a bunsen burner. You picked up the bottle and turned it over in the light. 

“So, do I drink all of this at once?” you asking in clarification, lest you accidentally put yourself in a coma.

“You c-can if you want. But it’s a-a-a pretty strong stimulant.”

You needed it strong right now. Your eyelids were starting to droop even when you were walking. You tilted your head back and downed the entire bottle in one swig. It was surprisingly sweet.

Energy instantly flowed through your body. You stretched your arms high above your head as blood pumped through veins.

“Guess I’ll take my leave then,” you said, feeling refreshed and for your helrejuvenated. "Thanks for the drink." 

“Yes, y-yes, go along now.”

You were one foot out the door when he said something you didn’t quite catch.

People talking to you the second you were trying to leave was becoming a reoccurring thing.

You turned around. “What was what?”

He huffed and ran his hands nervously over his goggles. “Baxter.”

“Baxter,” Your heart swelled at his words, but you refused to think it was anything more than being tired. “Nice to meet you, Baxter. Sorry for startling you earlier.”

He barely paid you any mind as you shut the door. You make sure to jump the large hole that had formed as you left, a bit more happiness in your heart. 

\---

He sat as still as a statue with rapt anticipation. He made no movement aside from the occasional swish of his tail. But even then, it would be impossible for anyone to find any meaning behind the action. The jangle of coin or the boisterous voices of those surrounding him didn’t permeate the cogs that turned in his mind. He analyzed his card, and then scratched his long claw against the table. He was dealt another card. He smiled.

“Feelin’ confident, Husk?” A player to his left said. 

“Just you wait.” he smirked. “I’m gonna-“

Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder, so light he didn’t realize it was a tap until the source prodded his fur again, harder. He turned and scowled at the interruption. 

“What?”

“Are you Husk?” 

“Yeah? What’s it to ya, I’m in the middlea game.” He turned away, and you spun him around again. He smacked your hand off of him. “What the fuck’s yer problem?!” 

“I have a message to give you from Overlord Vox,” You rummaged through your pockets to pull out an envelope.

“Tough shit, I don’t fuckin’ care,” the feline turned back to the game at hand. Your shoulders slumped. You weren’t allowed to leave until the envelope was accepted and opened...meaning you’d be here a while.

You scooted closer and hovered over Husk’s shoulder. Once you knew he wasn’t going to lash out at you, you began to tap his shoulder with the envelope. 

_Tap_

The dealer went through all the players once. Two demons busted and are out of the game.

_Tap Tap_

Husk’s brow started to twitch on the second run through. No one busted, a sinner doubled down on his hand.

_Tap Tap Tap_

In his frustration, Husk tore the felt that lined the table with his claw.

_TapTapTapTapTapTap_

“ _Fucking_ ,” Husk whipped around. You expertly scooted back just as his claw slashed at the air. “LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” 

“I need you to open and read this letter first. I’m more than happy to leave you once this is over.” 

Husk opened his mouth to speak when the dealer’s voice stopped him.

“Damn shame, looks like Husk bust!” 

“WHAT?!” he stared at his own cards. Sure enough, they totalled over 21. He’s out of the game, and lost his bet. 

“Tough shit.” you hummed, repeating his earlier words with false empathy. Husk growled, and you went silent. Glowering, Husk left the table in frustration to grab a drink at the bar. You followed closely behind him. 

No matter what Husk tried to do, he couldn’t shake you. He hopped back and forth from the table games to the bar, but you persistently trailed him, slapping the envelope against your palm.

After fucking up another game of poker and nearly flipping the table in rage, he stomped his way over to the bar. 

“Hit me.” he groaned, claws pulling down his eyelids.

The bartender gave Husk a remorseful look. “Sorry, I gotta cut you off.” 

“What,” Husk had half the mind to rip the bartender’s throat out. “Whaddya mean ‘cut me off’, I’m a regular! I’m payin’ outta my own pocket!”

“An’ we’ve got a shortage of booze. Source got into a brawl with another business n’ the supply for the day hasn’t arrived. Sorry bud.”

Husk buried his face in his hands and groaned as the bartender walked away. This night was the absolute worst.

He didn’t look up when the sound of approaching footsteps stopped to his right. 

“What do you want now?” He groaned, laying his head down on the bar. 

“I’ve already told you,” you said. You were getting frustrated with this lack and forth discussion. “This would really be easier on both of us if you just took it.”

“Look,” he sighed, raising his head. “I’ll cut you a deal, got it? Get me a couple a’ bottles of booze, then we’ll talk.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” Husk said, raising his voice in an imitation of yours. “Promise!” 

You squinted dubiously at him. 

“Ok ok,"He huffed in his normal tone, throwing his hands up in the air. “Yeah I promise! Aight?” 

“Fair enough,” You slid the envelope back safely inside your coat. “Where’s the nearest liquor store?”

\---

It was on the same street as the Blackjack Casino, unfortunately, there was an alcohol shortage there too...and on the next street…and the next 4 streets after that. 

This was Hell, the realm of debauchery and indulgence, _why the fuck_ was it so hard to find a can of beer? 

Finally - a few blocks south from the casino in a crappy supermarket - you found something. You nearly cried with joy at the sight of a dusty, shitty wine bottle that had rolled under one of the shelves. You carefully cradled the bottle like it was gold and headed for the checkout. 

Suddenly two eggs rolled out in front of you, blocking the way. 

Yes. Eggs.

You could barely comprehend it yourself. You started at them confusedly as the foot-tall creatures suddenly sprang up, sprouting limbs and staring up at you. 

In your confusion, you didn’t notice the demon that had silently slithered behind you. The wine bottle was forcefully plucked from your hands. 

“What-”

You whipped around, a snake demon was cackling maniacally and scurrying away with the bottle held high above his head. 

“NYAHAHA! The great Sir Pentious outwits another demon yet again! AHAHA!”

More of his eggs - his minions - hobbled behind him, carrying dozens of bottles of alcohol and liquor in their hands. 

Oh hell no. 

“Hey!” you yelled, taking off after them in a sprint. “Get back here!” You were not about to let some _rapscallion_ _prick_ your plans.

Obviously, the snake didn’t listen, exiting into a storage room in the back. You chased after him, hot on his heels. 

Sir Pentious easily scaled and passed crates and boxes in the cluttered room. You lagged behind him, jumping between boxes and weaving around obstacles slower than he could. All the while you kept yelling at him, throwing threats and curses. The dumbfounded employees simply stepped to the side as you whizzed passed them.

“Soon every sinner in all of Pentagram city will be buying their booze from me!” he hissed, making an ‘L’ on his forehead with his hand and flicking his tongue out at you. “Seeeee you later loossssser!” he slithered through the doors and was gone. 

You gritted your teeth, quickening your pace. You slammed the doors open a minute after Sir Pentious did, breathing heavily as you searched for the thief. You spotted him speeding away in a clunky metal car, bottles and different cans were rolling out and smashing on the street. 

_‘Dammit_!’ You cursed and kicked the ground. It’d be impossible to try and find any liquor now, and you didn’t have any way of chasing…

You blinked furiously. A shiny, red sports car was parked to your right, seemingly appearing in front of your eyes. You approached it. The key was in the ignition and there was a note taped to the driver’s side window. 

‘TAKE ME’

You ripped it off, looking left and right for whoever might have left or abandoned the car. You were hesitant to get it. The car could be trapped, or a trick of some sorts- 

The distant sound explosion and laughter from Sir Pentious reminded you of your situation. You needed that bottle, any bottle, any can. You needed it now, and you didn’t have many options. 

_Fuck it._

You hopped into the comfortable, plush seat of the car. You turned the key and the engine roared to life. The tires spun wildly as you floored the accelerator, burning rubber and speeding off in chase of the snake. 

\---

“Are you still there!?” Vox yelled over the roar of wind. 

“I gotta go!” you yelled as you swerved again to avoid another bomb. You ended the call and threw your phone in the backseat. 

You slammed on the breaks as the road curved sharply to the left. Your tires screeched as you drifted through a tunnel. One of the egg minions climbed up on the roof of the car in front of you, holding a large rocket launcher in his hand. You clenched your teeth, throwing the car to the side just as the road exploded next to you. The car sparked as its metal side rubbed against the concrete wall. You dodged the attack, but just barely. You wouldn’t be so lucky next time. 

Once the road straightened out again, you unhooked your gun from its holster and fired out the window. On the first shot you hit the egg minion, splashing yolk everywhere as the shells crunched under your tires. You fired and missed the second shot, hitting the bumper of the car. You steadied your arm and fired again. This time you punctured the tire, the old rubber blew up in bits and pieces as the car went lopsided.

You tucked your gun away and accelerated, driving up beside Sir Pentious who was struggling to keep the vehicle steady. He looked with shock and horror as you swung out of the window and jumped to the roof of his car. 

With no driver, your sports car drifted off the road into the opposite lane of traffic. You hissed an apology as it collided with multiple cars, blocking the entire lane in a mangled row of metal. 

Pentious swerved to try and shake you off. You held onto the open frame of the driver’s door tightly. Your shoulder hit the roof funny, and you winced in pain. 

A buzzing sound made you look down. One of Pentious’ minions from inside the car flicked on a taser and jabbed your hands. You screamed as kilowatts of electricity flew through you, shocking your nerves and body. Your teeth chattered as you forced your spasming body to move. You grasped the taser and jerked it into your hands, flinging the minion who was grabbing onto it out on the road. 

You popped your head through the window, looking upside down at Sir Pentious. 

His eyes bulged when he saw you. “Get away!” he screamed, hand flailing to slap you away. 

You batted his hands away, flicked the taser on, and plunged it in the side of the neck, pouring more electricity into the weapon for an extra kick. The snake screamed and coiled around himself from the shock. 

With your body almost entirely in the car now, you scooped up a stray bottle lying on the ground into your hands. With your goods collected, you lept from the car, tucking the bottle to your chest. The side of your body struck the ground hard, sending white-hot pain rushing through your arm. Your body bounced multiple times along the side of the road as you were thrown helplessly like a ragdoll. 

You groaned as you rolled to a breathless stop in a pile of limbs, dust settling around you. You sat up just as Sir Pentious crashed into a light post. There was a huge explosion and a hot burst of air as the car went up in flames. Bits and pieces of metal and scrambled eggs sprayed everywhere.

You uncurled the precious bottle from your chest, sighing in relief when you saw it wasn’t broken. Aside from your cuts, scrapes, and maybe even a few bruised or cracked ribs, you were ok.

And most importantly - so was the booze. 

\---

“Got it,” you gasped triumphantly. 

You slammed down the bottle of liquor inches away from Husk’s nose, then instantly regretted that decision. Fortunately, the bottle didn’t break. Husk’s ears perked up when he saw the familiar curve and shape of glass. 

He read the label, eyebrow raising. "Wine, really? Jeez, I'll take it, but this shit has no kick to it." 

“Don’t care," you went through an actual hell to get this. He'd just have to deal with shitty wine. "Payment. Now.”

“Not until I get one drink first, kid,” Husk reached out for the bottle. You pulled it out of his grip. 

He groaned. “FINE. Gimme the thing.” 

You reached into your coat pocket and pulled the wrinkled (and slightly damp from your sweat) envelope. Husk’s claws extend to take it when-

“Husker!” A cheerful voice called out, easily cutting through the usual noise and ruckus of the casino.

No. Oh god please no. Why wouldn’t the world let you go 5 minutes without a disaster?

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night my good friend!” Alastor slid gracefully from the other side of the bar and came to a stop at your side. “And the assistant! Oh- what a funny coincidence, we seem to be running into each other quite often!”

Coincidence you sweet hot ass!

“Yeah,” you said, trying to ignore Alastor. “Anyways here’s the letter.” You reached it out towards Husk again when suddenly a sharp black spike impaled it from the ground. You squawked, jumping back and releasing the letter. 

“What’s this now?” Alastor hummed cheerfully. The spike returned the envelope to him before disappearing into the floor. “An invitation?” 

You whipped around, trying to grab the piece of paper. “Give it back!” 

Alastor smiled smugly. “No, I don’t think I will.” He avoided your attempts at prying the letter from his hands, reading it over simultaneously.

“That’s for Husk, not you! Give it back!”

“And here I was thinking we were getting along so pleasantly! You wound me, dear.”

You were going to scream with how frustrating this man was. 

You gave up trying to force it out of Alastor’s hands, crossing your arms with a growl. “Why do you want it anyways? It has nothing to do with you.” Alastor and Vox fought, sure, but neither of them were stupid enough to directly get in the way of the other’s work. 

“Oh but it certainly is my business!” Alastor laughed, bringing a hand down on Husk's shoulder. The cat snarled at Alastor, uncorking the bottle with his teeth. “You see, _my good pal_ Husk _is_ my business, so this letter is mine before it is his!”

“That letter is from my boss, he’s not going to be happy finding out that you interfered with his work,” you said dumbly, because _of course_ Alastor knew that.

“Interfere with _his_ affairs?” Alastor shook his head. His eyes started to glow crimson. “What about _him_ , going behind my back and talking to my people.” He side-eyed Husk, who had tuned out of the conversation. “- _requesting a meeting_ _with the souls I own_ right under my nose?” 

Alastor tutted. “The Hypocrisy. The stupidity.”

That made you flinch. You knew Alastor was an overlord and definitely had more souls under his control...but actually hearing it was something else entirely. Seeing Husk shrink away from Alastor as he invaded his personal space made you sick. He reminded you of Vox, too much like Vox. 

“And I think,” Alastor continued. He grinned maliciously and crumpled the letter in his palm. His hand was suddenly swathed in flames, incinerating the paper to nothing more than ash in the blink of an eye. “ _This isn’t needed.”_

Alastor brushed the remains off of his gloves. You shut your jaw, realizing it had dropped open, and licked your lips. 

An idea popped into your head. A bad one, but one that was too tempting to resist. 

“By your logic,” you started, a small smile twitching at your lips. “You just explained the same thing you’ve been doing to me. Speaking behind my boss’ back… asking to talk...”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. One of his ears twitched slightly. 

“ _The hypocrisy. The stupidity._ ” you mimicked, down to his smile and everything. 

“I did not.” 

“Yes you did.”

“ _Did not._ ” 

“Whatever you say,” you shrugged, barely containing your new found glee. _Alastor had a touchy spot when being compared to Vox._ You wondered if Vox did too. 

Alas, that would have to wait for another day. It was time for you to go. To pick up Velvet and to check in with Vox. 

“I’m leaving.” you announced to no one in particular. There was no point sticking around when the letter was destroyed, there was nothing else to do here. 

Alastor’s hand on your shoulder stopped you. With a surprising display of strength, you were pushed back in your seat. 

“ _What’s your problem?_ ” You slapped his hand away, glaring up at him. 

His smile was stretched thin, a dangerous crackle in his voice. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you some manners?”

Was he upset he didn’t get the last say, or was he upset that you poked fun at him? Regardless, he was just being a sore loser. You bared your teeth at him. “ _Didn’t yours_?” 

Husk choked on his drink, coughing violently and staring at you like you had a death wish.

Maybe you did. 

Alastor was completely still. He chuckled, and slowly, _slowly_ called forth his microphone. His bangs fell over his face, obscuring most of his expression from you. 

“You are something else.” He hooked the collar of your shirt under his microphone and yanked you into the air. Your hands came to your neck as you floundered in the air, feet dangling above the ground. 

He leaned in close so that your noses were almost touching. His breath was hot against your skin. Your nose wrinkled, he smelled like death and decay. 

“Make another comment like that again,” he warned. “And it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The entire casino seemed to fall away. It was just you and Alastor, and those headlights of eyes boring into your retinas. They stung to look at, but you held his stare with determination. 

“It’s rude to touch people without their consent.” you gasped, glaring at him. You weren’t about to let him play his little game with you tonight. 

“You don’t seem to have a problem with Vox touching you.”

“ _Don’t go there._ ”

“I’ll do whatever I please.”

“ _That’s_ for _damn_ sure.”

 _“You are wearing my patience VERY THIN._ ”

“ _Then don’t touch me, Radio Demon._ ” 

Maybe you should have backed off sooner, you realized as Alastor wrapped his hands around your neck. Any attempt at speaking was drowned out by your wet chokes and gurgles. The static radiating off of Alastor was deafening, only broken by the sound of chanting and whispers. 

  
  


H̷̼͝Ā̶͎R̶̯͠M̴̧͗ ̶̳͂H̵̩͘Ä̸̹́Ṟ̷͛M̷̞̃ ̵̗̉H̶̥̾A̷͓̅R̷͘ͅM̴̭

̶̦͗T̵̗E̴̱̿A̸̛̗R̶̭͝ ̷͕̽T̸̬̂E̷̲̔Ä̵̭Ř̸̮ ̷̤Ť̸̗E̴̲̓A̵͔͗Ȑ̸̺

̷̜͒R̸̢̓I̵͉͛P̴͇̈́ ̸̰̈́R̷̭̉I̵̛͇Ṕ̷̪ ̷͇͘Ȑ̸̬Ĭ̵͇P̴̗͛

  
  


You felt your vision starting to darken. Shapes and illusions swam under your eyelids. Drool was leaking from the corner of your mouth as your fingers desperately clawed at his hands. Your nails pierced his wrists and something snapped in Alastor. 

His finger dug into the side of your jaw, just under your ear, rivulets of blood flowed down your chin and neck. The sensation frightened you, but you could barely feel it from the immense pressure in your head. It felt like every blood vessel in your brain was going to burst. 

Suddenly, he let you go. You fell into a heap on the floor, cheek pressed against the wooden boards. You coughed violently, tears welling up in your eyes as you wiped away the fluids from your face. Your lungs had been completely emptied of oxygen. Now every breath you drew in felt like your lungs were on fire. 

Meanwhile, Alastor was calmly dusting off his suit. “Please, just call me Alastor!” he exclaimed like he hadn’t been suffocating you a second prior.

The wound from his fingers and the imprints on your neck burned and pulsed with the beating of your heart. 

Because of him.

He didn’t deserve to have his name spoken by you. 

“Radio Demon.” you croaked.

Alastor crackled with white noise, mouth curling at the edges. “Suit yourself.”

He didn’t stop you when you went to leave this time. He only spoke once you passed by him. 

“You’re welcome by the way,” he said. “For the car.”

Your gut fell. That had been him? He wasn’t the generous type at all, not unless he had a motive. You frowned, turning your head slightly to look at the back of his head. 

More importantly, _why_ did he help you? If it hadn’t been for him, Husk wouldn’t have accepted your letter. Why did he assist you only to tear the letter up afterwards? What good did it do? You chewed on your lip in thought. 

“You’ve got a unique taste in cars.” You said. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing ‘thank you’ from you again. One thank you was too much for all that he’d done. 

“Oh don’t be silly,” You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling innocently. “I don’t drive.”

You walked home, mind buzzing with new information as you recounted Alastor’s conversation over and over. You cleared your throat every minute to satisfy the scratchiness that had formed in your esophagus. Your voice would definitely be hoarse in the morning and the bruises from his slender fingers would remain for days. 

You fell into a deep sleep the second your head hit your pillow. By the time you realized you forgot to finish your job, it was too late. 

\---

_Curious…_

Alastor though as one of his shadows trailed you on your way home. Any other demon who spoke back to him once would have been demolished instantly, not to mention speaking back _twice._

Maybe this little human could be capable for his plans....but he’d have to wait and see.

He raised a hand to his mouth and licked at the blood that had stained his glove. He could still feel the phantom touch of your neck wrapped around his claws and terrified look in your eyes. He licked his lips and shuddered. 

Humming an old song, he strode through the night streets and slipped away with the shadows. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bowing profusely* please forgive me this is so late.And it's not even that interesting, sorry! but I had to get a few things into the story before we keep going with the good stuff. 
> 
> I love Baxter, and since he's a mad scientist I just decided to make him work under velvet bc they'd seem to fit. 
> 
> There might be one more short chapter after this one, but then we get into something *really* interesting ;) I've already started writing it and I can't wait to show it to you all 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter/ tumblr: comfeyworks


	4. Actions have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newton's Third Law of Motion: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. 
> 
> In which the reader faces the penalty of their sins and gets something else they didn't bargain for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: We start getting into manipulation in this one. Once again, this fic has a lot of abusive/ bad behaviour. please read with caution.

For the first time in a long time, you woke up slowly. The muffled sounds of the city met your ears as you opened your eyes and blinked blearily. Everything was still fuzzy and blurred. You yawned and rubbed your eyes as harsh red sunlight streamed in through your window.

Immediately your throat lit up in flames. You reached out blindly towards a glass of water on your nightstand and took a painful gulp. Water dribbled down your chin and rolled into your shirt. You placed the glass back down and wiped your chin with the back of your hand. Your throat still hurt, but the pain had died down into a dull throb. 

Thirst quenched, you exhaled and flopped back onto the bed. Since you hadn’t been woken up, there wasn’t any need to get up right away. 

You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin again for another nap. It wasn’t really a nap more so than it was waiting for your body to come out of its tired state. You laid drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. 

When you were more awake than sleep, and your body felt too hot in your itchy clothes, you decided to get up. You hadn’t bothered to change when you got home last night, so you were still wearing your dirty work clothes. They were wrinkled and clung to your skin uncomfortably.

What time was it anyway? It was so bright and hot. You drew the curtains to block out the sun from your room, then fished your phone out of your pocket. You were met with the dim, empty battery gauge. You plugged it in before going to freshen yourself up. 

While your phone charged you threw your dirty clothes in the laundry mound that was forming in the corner of your room (the hamper was underneath all of that...somewhere), showered, half-heartedly made your bed, and tidied up the knick-knacks and objects that laid around your apartment. Days off were scarce, so you were always in a constant state of cleaning or fixing when you got the chance. Always cleaning small things was much easier than taking an entire afternoon to do it all in one go, at least for you. 

You examined your face in a cheap makeup mirror. Alastor had left harsh, purplish bruises on your throat, shaped to his fingers. You turned your head to the left and right, examining the hole he made when his claw pierced the underside of your jaw. It was a shallow wound and had clotted up into a dark red scab overnight. 

Even though you knew he wasn’t there, the marks he left on you made it feel like he was attached to you - a visible symbol connecting him to you. It sickened you.

You didn’t want to look at yourself anymore. You placed the mirror face down on the dresser and picked up your phone.

6:05pm

_30 new messages._

_11 missed calls._

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You had slept through the entire day. You opened up your messages, reading the most recent ones. 

_Vox, yesterday at 6:32pm:_ I want an explanation for that call when you arrive this evening. See you then, Doll.

 _Vox, yesterday at 8:27pm:_ Why can’t I reach you?? Where are you???

 _Vox, yesterday at 8:34pm:_ Don’t make me hunt you down. It won’t be pretty.

 _Vox, yesterday at 8:45pm:_ I’m calling you. 

_Vox, yesterday at 8:56pm:_ PICK UP YOUR PHONE. 

_Vox, yesterday at 8:58pm:_ PICK. IT. UP

Vox, yesterday at 11:58pm: This should have NEVER happened. Get over here immediately. 

Oh shit.

You scrambled to get your coat and shoes on. You’d been so caught up with Alastor that you forgot all about Vox and work. It had slipped your mind entirely. 

But that wouldn't be a good enough answer for Vox, you knew it wouldn’t be.

_Shitshitshit._

You rushed out of your apartment, taking the stairs 4 at a time. You dialled Vox as you ran. It went to voicemail, which only worsened the anxiety in your gut.

Vox _always_ answered you. 

‘ _Vox?_ ’ you called out to him internally. No answer there either. 

You hailed a taxi and held on tightly to the handles in the backseat as the driver sped across the city. You bounced your leg impatiently. 

You had _never_ fucked up like this. Never in all your years of working under him did you ever fail to follow through with his demands. You had no idea what Vox would do because of this. You made him angry, no, you made him _furious_. 

Your legs felt weak. You were grateful that you were sitting down. 

You didn’t even wait for the car to stop before you lept out and rushed to the elevators of the skytree. 

Your heart pumped in your ears as you ascended slowly, up towards your punishment, up towards what felt like a lamb being brought to the slaughter. 

Your stomach turned with nausea, nearly making you throw up as the room began to slant. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your eyes. 

_Calm down._

Your erratic heartbeat felt strong enough to break your rib cage. Your breaths became more constricted and desperate. 

_Calm down. Calm down._

You breathed deeply to calm your nerves. 

Deep inhale through the nose. Hold. Slow exhale through the mouth. Repeat. 

They helped somewhat. But your stomach still felt like a pit of live vipers, hissing and squeezing in on itself. 

You were terrified of what was going to happen. 

_Bing._

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the elevator arriving at the top floor. The doors slid open smoothly. You let your hands drop weakly to your sides and then stepped into the room. 

Vox was lying back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other. His back was facing you, stirring a cocktail in one hand. At the sound of your footsteps, he craned his head over to look at you. 

“Finally decide to show up, huh?” He said, uncharacteristically calm and devoid of charm. “How nice.” 

“Boss, I’m so sorry I-” Vox raised his hand and stopped you. He stood up and walked over to his office, abandoning his drink. He silently entered, gesturing for you to follow him without glancing back. 

Oh fuck, he was _pissed_.

“Shut the door,” he said once you followed him in. You did. He motioned with his hand towards the empty chair and you sat in it. 

He didn’t sit. Instead, he paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out over the city. 

If he had just yelled at you, that would have been fine, you could have handled that. _But he was silent_. The silence unnerved you. Vox loved noise, and he loved the sound of his voice more than anything. So the fact that he had little to say was frightening. 

“Boss, I-”

“Quiet,” he spat. “You will not speak unless I ask you too.” 

You snapped your mouth shut. 

“Do you know how many denizens tune into my shows?” He asked, still staring out the window. “Guess.”

“I don’t know.”

“No, really, _guess._ ”

“A couple of thousand…?”

“ _Try a couple of a hundred thousand,_ ” he turned around, mouth flattened into a straight line. “A couple of hundred thousand denizens who were expecting Velvet to show up on the TV. And you know what they got?”

He was waiting for your response.

“No?”

“ _Not. Velvet.”_

You chewed on your lip, feeling like a child being scolded by their parent. You felt your face flush. 

“...couldn’t someone else have picked her up?” you proposed timidly. You weren’t in any position to be making such statements, but a nagging part in the back of your brain forced you to advocate for yourself.

If the interview was _that important_ , why didn’t Vox just send someone else? He could have easily found someone to take your place. 

“ _That's not the point here._ ” He growled through gnashed teeth, placing his hands on the desk. “ _The point_ is I asked you to do something and not only did you fail to follow a simple order, but your actions affected me, my business, my empire.” 

“I can explain Boss-”

“ _I don’t care_ about your explanation,” he hissed, leaning into your face. “You failed. It’s over. No explanation is going to solve anything.”

“But-”

“ _Silence_!” 

The lights flickered momentarily as his voice shook the room. For a split second, Vox’s electricity crackled around him. He took a deep breath, and the sparks slowly faded around him. 

“Now. Let’s start from the beginning - where was that again? Oh right, when you hung up on me last night.” He said, slightly more amicable but still harbouring a bitter tone. 

“I’m sorry. I was just really busy driving and I couldn’t focus on two things-”

“I’ve already told you,” his lips curled into a snarl. You shrunk back in your seat as he towered over you. “ _I don’t want to hear explanations or apologies. Tell me what happened!_ ”

You told him everything. From Husk’s request to the chase with Sir Pentious, and even what happened with Alastor and what he had said. Vox remained still, looking far off into the distance. When he asked questions you stopped and answered them, and when he was quiet you hurriedly kept going. 

“Those bruises,” Vox pointed to your neck. You hadn’t thought of putting on a scarf or something else to conceal them. “Alastor as well?”

“Yes…” 

“What did he do? How did he do it?”

“He…” you gulped, steadying your breath. “He grabbed me by the collar, and then started- uh, choking me...” Vox had moved to your left, standing beside you. You looked at his bowtie instead of his eyes. 

“With his hands?” 

“Yes?”

“Like this?” With a scary tenderness, Vox wrapped his hands around your neck exactly as Alastor had done. 

“Y-yes…” you stuttered, hating yourself for the stammer. 

“Keep going.”

“Then his fingers tightened.” As you spoke, Vox repeated your actions. You winced but kept talking. “A-and he dug into my jaw.”

“That all?”

“That’s all.”

“Come now, _darling_.” You cringed at his words, body instinctively arcing away from him. “I know there’s more to it than _that_.”

Even if you wanted to speak, you couldn't. Your words were caught behind your tongue, frozen in place. 

He lifted you into the air. Your wounds protested in agony as fiery pain lit up your tender skin, but you didn’t dare resist him or try and struggle. 

“ _Did he smile like this? Could your breathe? Did your brain start to hurt?_ ” His hands tightened, he brought you even closer to his luminous visage. “ _Were you crying, begging for your life? About to piss yourself? Did you feel like you were going to die?_ ”

This felt like Alastor, _he_ felt like Alastor. It felt like you were trapped under him again and he was choking you and he wasn’t going to stop. The way he smiled, the constant hum of white static, and the sharp edges of his nails against your throat - it brought back memories from the night before. 

Everything, _everything_ felt like Alastor. 

Your throat was as dry as the desert and you felt like the sun itself, burning from the inside out. The lights in the room had turned off at some point. Instead of being baked under the ruby gaze of the radio demon, you were drowning in the dark sea of Vox. 

The oxygen in your lungs seemed to vaporize from the heat. You couldn’t breathe. You could still draw in air, but it was never enough. No matter how much your lungs expanded, you still weren’t breathing. 

_You were trapped. You felt like you were dying._

Your fear piled up, joining the knot in your stomach, and exploded into one small whimper. 

You were afraid. God be damned, you were in hell and you were afraid of Vox. 

At the noise, Vox paused. He held you in that state of panic for a tantalizing long second, a flicker of emotion crossing his screen.

Then he chuckled and dropped you. 

You found with relief that you could breathe again. You drew breath after breath, gulp after gulp of air. A stray tear rolled down your cheek. Vox collected it under his thumb and brushed it away.

“Shhh shh shh, doll face,” he cooed. You turned away from him, repulsed. He shot you a look of disapproval. When he reached out a second time, you let his hand stay against your cheek. 

“I never wanted to hurt you, you understand that?” He carefully pulled you into his embrace and began stroking your hair. You closed your eyes, almost giving in to the relaxation. “I just had to scare you a bit, that’s all. I had to show you what you did was wrong...You understand, don’t you?” 

You nodded into his coat, just barely. 

“...Just had to punish you for misbehaving.” he kept mumbling, the sound soft and muffled. “You know this hurts me as well, don’t you?”

Your head bobbed ambiguously, not caring what he was saying. You were just glad he wasn’t going to hurt you anymore. You were safe now. Things were safe now.

You pressed your hands to his suit, feeling the fabric. He didn’t stop you so you assumed it was ok to touch him. You didn’t dare feel under his suit to his shirt, but his navy jacket was smooth and cool against your fingers. You had never been this close to Vox. He felt strong and his body hummed with life as you pressed your ear closer to his chest. You closed your eyes, sighing blissfully and allowing yourself a moment to rest.

His strokes continued and he held you until your heart rate returned to normal, (or as normal as it could be) and the threat of bursting out sobbing disappeared. 

“You ok?” His body vibrated when he spoke, reverberating through your skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

There was a light pressure on the top of your head. You choked on your own breath as your body tensed again.

He had kissed you, he kissed the top of your head. 

Vox settled you back down into your seat carefully. He turned your head to look up at him. In a quick second, his face was as hard as stone. “This will never happen again. Do you understand that?” His voice was no longer soothing, but stern and seeping with warning. 

Your throat bobbed. You nodded. Whether he was talking about the kiss or your failure, you weren’t sure. You assumed it was the latter.

He searched your face. After finding what he wanted, he smiled and pulled away. “Good,” he patted your head with approval. “You’re dismissed. There’s lots of work for you to do next door, get started.” 

Your legs felt like jelly as you stumbled out of his office and gently clicked the door shut behind you. 

You leaned against the door. A hot flush came to your face as you rubbed your cheeks. He kissed you. It hadn’t felt romantic at all, and it was on the top of your head, _but still_ , It felt weird, but it felt interesting. Like maybe, _just maybe_ , Vox wasn’t actually all that bad. Maybe he had a softer side as well. 

...but, he had still hurt you. You thought glumly. He’d choked you knowing it would hurt and scare you.

Though, maybe Vox wasn’t _really to blame_.

You rubbed your wrist, the bonding mark on your arm lit up. You _had_ failed to follow his orders. And following his orders _was_ a part of the deal you two had made. So were his actions unreasonable when you had nearly broken the rules of the deal…? No.

 _...but_ at the same time…you _hadn’t_ disobeyed his orders. You just forgot. 

Because you were tired and hurt and overworked because Vox-

...BUT. Your fault- for not waking up, not plugging in your phone-

Not being good enough. 

No matter how you sliced it, the blame always fell upon your shoulders. 

And Vox’s kiss…?

...That you didn’t know. Didn’t know what it meant and didn’t understand the small pool of warmth it sparked in your stomach. Quite frankly, you didn’t want to know. 

You pushed off from the door and got to work. You refused to let your mind wander to more thoughts of Vox kissing you for the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Vox being genuine? Is the reader *truly* at fault for what they did? Cast your votes! There's no right or wrong anwsers, but there will be one outcome. 
> 
> From now on, I'm gonna try and make sunday my update days, preferably sunday morning...even though it ended up being in the evening this time. 
> 
> Short chapter this time, but next week we go somewhere really FUN. That has a little something to do with the radio demon... ;)
> 
> This is gonna be a fun ride, folks!
> 
> Thank you for reading, your comments and kudos keep me going!  
> (Ps: Please stay safe out there everyone!)


	5. Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader duels against a familiar face in an unfamiliar area.  
> Then a mistake is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More violence and other potentially triggering events/ subjects. Read with caution.
> 
> Inspirations for this chapter:  
> "The world Revolving" by Toby Fox.

Hell was big, really big. It was a treacherous, lawless place composed of different biomes and creatures. Every ‘living’ thing created in Hell was dangerous, feral, and merciless. It was survival of the fittest in the world. For that reason, very few traversed the uninhabited regions among the nine circles. 

In the eighth circle, there was a vast desert in hell that stretched for miles. In the middle of it, if someone were unlucky enough to get lost, was a small cluster of attractions, vendors, shacks, and tents set up in a carnival of sorts. The once bright colours and patterns had the life sucked out of them, stained and dirtied with the passing of time. 

This place was Wonderland. It lived up to its placement in the circle of violence being a lawless, hostile area where only the most powerful and crazy of demons resided. It wasn’t a place where most would want to stick around for very long. Everything in wonderland was worn down, from the loose boards on the shacks to the stained tarps and tents that lined the streets. A testament to what had once been pure, but was now corrupted. 

It almost resembled a circus, if the circus had a secret evil twin that lived in Hell. 

A cheery, distorted tune met your ears as soon as you stepped foot onto the dirt pathways that were lined with dying grass and weeds. Different tents, salons and buildings played chilling, corrupted music ranging from woodwind, precaution and brass instruments. 

An eerie organ wheezed in your ear as you passed by a stall. A painting of a clown smiled back at you ghoulishly. Rust and dirt overflowed from its eyes and mouth. You squirmed uncomfortably under its gaze, drawing the hood of your travelling cloak tighter around you. 

You hurried as fast as you trusted yourself to go through the streets. You could feel Vox’s power tingle up and down your arms, already to protect you at any moment from threats. Demons from the shadows were already narrowing their eyes at you as you passed. You avoided their gazes and kept moving. The last thing you wanted was to get into a fight with someone.

The further you travelled into Wonderland, the more chaotic things became. Explosions went off from nearby tents, clouds of smoke drifted throughout the entire street, and a strange scent from an incense shop momentarily drew you towards it in a trance-like state. You passed by a section of roller coaster, Ferris wheels, and other rides. Their seats were always full, and the rides would run endlessly for the rest of time. The occasional demon would fall off, or be crushed under the tracks, and no one would bat an eye. 

You finally came to your destination, stopping in front of a midnight blue tent. Unlike the surrounding buildings and rides, the tent was tiny and appeared well kept, aside from a few tears along the bottom of it. 

The entrance was a simple rectangle cut out of the fabric. You looked at your phone, then back up at the building. This was the right place. Whatever this place was, it was where you were supposed to be. 

Vox hadn’t told you anything. Not who you were supposed to meet, not what you were supposed to be doing. He just said to come here. 

_Well Vox, I’m here._ You thought, looking into the tent. 

You couldn’t see anything (always a bad sign). A damp, cool breeze was coming from the inside along with a few, slow notes of a pipe organ. The air was tense and crackled with life, like the calm before the storm.

 _Unsettling_. 

But as unsettling as it was, just waiting out in the open didn’t seem to be a good idea, nor would it get you anywhere. 

For better or for worse, you stepped inside.

“Well well well,” A voice rang out from all directions. “The curtain hath been open to you, how interesting…”

You drew your gun, taking a defensive position and scanning the darkness.“Who are you?”

Torches along the inside of the tent lit up one by one. The final two torches lit up simultaneously on the opposite end of the tent, revealing a cloaked, unknown man. “Who _I am_ isn’t of any importance. I am nothing when the world doesn’t need me, and everything when I have to be.” Pointed shoes poked out from beneath fabrics of black and blue. “ _But you._ You have a great power and potential within you.”

You realized that the tent was far bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. It’s height nearly doubled in size, and the circular space was roughly the size of a skating rink. You could only stare in awe at the sight, and wonder how it worked, physically. 

The man (?) was hovering motionless in the air, standing on nothing. “Though I don’t sense that power is of your own…” He hummed, bending at the waist to examine you closer. He jingled as he did so, from the bells on his shoes and person. “No...it’s more like...a faucet of water dousing yourself with power…”

You said nothing, keeping your eyes trained on him. Electricity crackled around you, fingers twitching around your gun. 

He didn't seem threatened by your weapon. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. That power is worthy enough, even if it’s not your own.” He popped his arm out from his cape, holding a metallic-like disk. “Here.”

“What is it?” you asked.

The man paused, then he burst out into a fit of high pitched laughter. “You don’t know,” he wiped tears from his eyes. “How fun, a little goose like you coming into my tent, naive to the power at hand.”

“This isn’t funny,” you said, tired of being left in the unknown. “What is that?”

“Oh, little goose, but it is.” He had finally stopped laughing and settled back into his collected, mysterious self. “You came here with purpose, but there’s no purpose to be had when you don’t know your own reason.”

You blinked confusedly.

He walked down an invisible flight of stairs, stopping a foot above the ground in front of you. “Take it. You or whoever this ‘faucet’ is, is needing and worthy of this.”

Your eyes shifted from the masked face to the disk he held. Surely if Vox was sending you here, he knew about this, right? Which meant that it was safe…

Right?

You decided to take your chances. You took the disk from the man’s hand. A powerful thrum of energy rang through you when you held onto it. The disk seemed to be shaking you from your very core, but only slightly. 

You pocketed it into your coat. “Thanks.” 

“There is no thanks needed for the axis of the Earth.” he said, as mysterious and encryptive as ever.

The electricity around you sensed danger before you did, and the man sensed it well before your power did, too. His feet lifted smoothly above his head and he flew up towards the ceiling in a split second, as if gravity shifted suddenly for him. You were less elegant and threw yourself out of the way as a knife came hurtling from behind you. It ripped right through the other side of the tent, tearing a hole in it.

Two shadowy figures came into the tent. It was only when they got closer to the torches did their faces illuminate, though you were well acquainted with the long, string-bean silhouette of your _good friend._

“I must say,” Alastor hummed, walking over to inspect the hole he created. “It’s been quite a while since I used one of my knives. Mayhaps I should get back into the more _hands-on_ approach…”

He craned his neck to look up at the man on the ceiling, eyes lighting up in recognition. “Ringmaster!” He raised a hand to his forehead and squinted his eyes. “What are you up to, old friend?”

“Oh you know me,” the ringmaster sat down on the ceiling and crossed his legs over each other. They spoke back and forth like good friends having lively banter over tea, completely ignoring you. “Just hanging around. It’s a lovely day out, isn’t it? ”

An explosion went off outside, shaking the tent. 

“A mighty fine day, yes!” Alastor chirped.

“It’s been a while, Alastor. Some forty years or so,” The ringmaster continued, like nothing odd had happened. “What brings you to my tent today?”

“Oh nothing, just popping in to say hello, seeing the sights, _the usual._ I haven’t visited Wonderland in so long, and you know how much I _love_ this place.”

“No show tonight, then?”

“Oh no,” Alastor said mischievously. “ _There’ll be one this evening._ ”

Right. Were either of them going to acknowledge you? The second you thought of leaving, the ringmaster looked at you.

“Where is my sense of manners - Alastor, have you met my newest visitor?”

Fuck.

Alastor nodded at you. “I have. Hello, lovely assistant,” he said, eyes glinting mysteriously. If he held any anger from your last encounter, he didn’t show it. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Your neck throbbed as you looked at his fingers, then right back at his eyes. The bruises had faded but your memory hadn’t. “It has.”

“I notice you’ve got quite an item there,” he pointed to the disk in your pocket. 

“Yeah,” you said, trying to scoot your way towards the exit. “And I was just leaving so I’ll be going-”

There was a rustle behind you, and then Husk was standing blocking the entrance. Light glistened off his curled, sharp claws. You sighed and turned around to Alastor.

“What.”  
“Hm?”   
“What do you want.”   
“Oh, well I was just thinking-”   
“Cut the crap.” You drew your gun. Alastor stared you down as you pointed it at his head. “I’m not here to talk, and neither are you - _so what do you want?_ ” 

“I was hoping to start off with some pleasantries,” He sighed. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll get to the point,” He held out his hand. “Give me the disk.”

“What? No,” You covered your side with your arm. “That’s out of the question.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a _suggestion_ .” Alastor took a step forward. You took a step back to match him. “ _Give it._ ”

“ _No_.”

“Do you even know what that thing is, or did _he_ not bother to tell you?”

You gritted your teeth.

“Silence speaks louder than sound,” Alastor said to himself. “Trust me, that is far more powerful than you’d imagine, it will be better for both of us if you just let me have it.”

“ _Trust you_ ,” you scoffed, shocked. “Why would _I_ trust you.”

“You trust _Vox_ , then?”

“At least Vox won’t…” you trailed off. You were about to say ‘choke me’ or ‘hurt me’, but that wasn’t true either. “I’ve known Vox longer. I trust him to not get myself killed.”

“And how well did that work out with the Dino Gang, hm? Who came to your rescue then?”

You could only bite on your lip and scowl at him.

An ice-cold feeling slithered up your spine. You spun around to see a phantom, shadowy figure looming over you. Its maw was open and dripping with black smoke. You were locked in place under its penetrating gaze. The only noticeable features were the two tuffs on his head, like Alastors, and the _thing's_ striking blue eyes and mouth. You gulped at the sudden dryness in your throat. It reminded you of another man who had the same hue.

 _Vox_. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the shadow reached towards you with an inky claw.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” you yelled, ducking to avoid the swipe from the shadow. 

“I’m trying to take the disk,” Alastor stated plainly, almost bored. “Your resistance isn’t helping.” 

The shadow kept reaching for you all the while. You persistently kept avoiding it.

“That’s. Kinda. The. Point.” you grunted between rolls and jumps.

In the midst of avoiding Alastor’s shadow, you backed up into his chest. Alastor gave a grunt of discomfort as you yelped, almost falling on your face with how quickly you whipped around again.

“Really,” he sighed, dusting off his suit and fixing his bowtie. He showed a bit of discomfort at your touch, but he seemed to get over it very quickly. “You’re very clumsy.”

You crossed your arms, offended. “I am _not_.” You were very not clumsy, thank you very much. You’d be as useful as dirt if you were. 

He raised an eyebrow. Suddenly your legs were knocked out from under you. You fell head over heels and landed hard on your back. You stared up at the ceiling, wheezing. Alastor's shadow grinned down at you, a smile curling at his eyes in proud glory of what it had done.

 _Thanks a lot_. You pouted, rubbing your head as it merged with its master again.

You stared at each other in silence.

“Not clumsy, are we?” Alastor didn’t even try to hide the pure amusement in his voice or the elated smile on his face. 

“ _Shut up_.” You swallowed your pride and pulled yourself to your feet.

“You’ve had your fun, little ducky,” Alastor continued, biting back another snarky comment. Now it was your turn to raise a brow at him. Ducky, really? “But playtime’s over, and I’ve been _very_ patient with you-”

“Good for you, it’s a virtue you know.”

“ _But_ ,” His eyes flashed at your remark. Whether it be a playful one or a warning one, you didn’t know. “That’s over now.”

The latter, then. 

“I’m still not giving it to you, Radio Demon.”

He reached forward again in denial and you pulled away from his touch. His eyes twitched in annoyance. 

“I will ask you once more - _give it to me_ ,” he demanded. 

If this thing was important enough for Vox to send you to wonderland to get it, _and_ for Alastor to be so insistent on having it - you knew you couldn’t let it get out of your hands. Even if you didn’t know what it was, you knew well enough that it was valuable. You didn’t have to know what it was - you only had to keep Alastor from getting it. 

Had he not choked you out the last time you spoke, _maybe_ your answer would be different. 

Unlikely, but maybe. 

“ _No_.”

His lazy eyes sharpened and his lips pursed tightly. “Then you leave me no choice.” he snapped his fingers. The entrance to the tent was blocked off by dark tendrils, and the torches lining the walls blew out. 

“Oh a fight a fight!” the ringmaster said with glee. He hopped up from his sitting position and waved his hand high over his head. Elevated stands rose against the edges of the tent, capturing you in a large circle. You squinted to look for Alastor. It was too dark to make anything except for his glowing red eyes and aura. 

In one flip, Alastor elegantly hopped onto one of the balconies and joined the ringmaster in the stands. “Did you think I would be fighting you?” he laughed. “How funny! No, the only person you’re going to be fighting…”

A low growl met your ears. You whipped around, drawing your gun to point it at Husk. His fur was fluffed up and his tail was whipping back and forth dangerously. You stared each other down, his pupils as wide as saucers. 

“ _...is husker…_ ”

You readied your gun. A poof of smoke and gas almost made you drop it in shock. 

“No no! There cannot be any weapons like that, that wouldn’t be fair!” The ringmaster called out. His voice echoed all around you again.

When the smoke cleared, you were holding a long lance in hand. The long wooden staff had a pointed metal spearhead on one end, with a blue ribbon tied underneath it. You flipped it over in one hand, feeling the weapon. You could work with this. 

“Your move, kid,” Husk grunted, readying himself on all fours. 

You clutched the staff tighter. “I don’t want to do this, Husk.” You squared your shoulders and feet. A fast upbeat tune started to play, similar to the earlier sounds you heard, with organs, pianos and trumpets. You risked a glance at Alastor. He only stared back, sitting pleasantly with his hands crossed over his microphone, awaiting a show.

 _Fine_. A show he wants, a show he’ll get.

“...but I will do it, if you are going to fight me.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You concentrated hard, drawing out power from your core to the edges of your skin and fingertips. You whispered a small incantation, barely a breeze passing by your lips. Then your eyes shot open, you flashed the spear high above your head, expelling power out of your body all at once. In a flash of brilliant blue and white light, you were suddenly surrounded by Vox’s power and electricity. The nearby torches were glowing with the same type of light, lighting up the tent in a brilliant disco of light.

“Try to keep up, old man.” You smirked.

You drove the spear into the dirt, sending a shockwave of energy through the ground and up the walls. Husk leapt into the air, avoiding it. You rolled out of the way as he swatted at you, claws etching deep grooves into the dirt.

You charged him, aiming the spear at his middle. He flattened to the ground and then spun in place, swinging his tail at your legs. You jumped over it, using the momentum to drive the spearhead into his right shoulder blade, right where it connected with his wing. He snarled and spat in pain, reaching around to grab you. You hopped off before he could touch you, sliding to a stop on your feet.

“Not bad,” Husk yelled over the noise, wincing as he flexed his wing. A faint red glow surrounded his body. He grew larger and fur bristled sharper. He whipped his tail around and flung sharp feathers from it at you. Whatever momentary shock you had wore off as you twirled the spear in your hand to deflect them. One feather caught and punctured your shoulder. You cried out in pain, it was as sharp and as hard as a metal arrow.

You quickly tugged the arrow out of your shoulder as Husk rushed forwards. You didn’t have any time to block as he slashed your face. His claws cut deep lines across your forehead and cheeks. You stumbled backwards as blood flowed down your face and into your eyes and mouth. 

Husk swiped again. This time you brought an arm up to block his attack. His claws became tangled in your cloak. In one quick motion, you wrapped the access material around his hand, tangling him further, and pulled the cloak up and off of you. 

Husk struggled to get the tangled pieces of fabric off of his hand. You thrust your spear towards him again. Husk used his covered hand to block it. Your spear pieced and caught in the rags on his hands. Holding you in place, Husk kneed you in the stomach. You choked and spat up the blood that collected in your mouth, but refused to move. 

You tore your spear away from him, effectively freeing Husk from his binds as well. To prevent him from getting away, you stepped on his tail and pinned it to the floor. You drove the spear down into his back paw and winced as Husk shrieked bloody murder into your ear.

You forced electricity into his body, flowing your power through the staff. Husk ripped the spear from your hand and rammed his shoulder into your chest. You were sent flying backwards, rolling and bouncing through the dirt. You came to a stop and wheezed, wiping blood from your eyes. 

Husk looked livid. His breathing was painful and ragged as he turned with a limp to you. He easily splintered the spear with one hand, letting the end with the spearhead fall to the ground. “You’re dead, kid.” He growled, throwing a piece of splintered wood at you like a dart.

Uh oh.

You scrambled to your feet and started running. The piece of wood embedded into the ground where you just were.

“Guess those days in the casino paid off, huh!” you gasped, ducking, jumping and weaving to avoid his attacks. “You’re, _huff_ , pretty good- Ah!” Something sharp stabbed you in the back. Husk pounced on you a second later, knocking you face-first into the ground. He pressed a knee between your shoulders, using his hand to keep your head on the ground. He pulled the arrow from your back. You bit back a groan of pain.

“Just give it up, kid.” Husk hissed into your ear, digging a claw into your wound. You sucked in air through your clenched teeth.“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Anger rose in you at his words. “Don’t talk to me like that!” You bucked, trying to get him off of you, pulsing electricity into him. He hissed but held on tight. 

Sweat was covering your body. The cool breeze that had enveloped the tent earlier was gone, leaving an unbearable humidity. This wasn’t good; you were running out of steam and pretty soon you wouldn’t have the strength to get him off of you. You bucked your hips again, wriggling as hard as you could to twist your hips to the side. You tucked your foot to your chest and kicked out. Husk’s hold on you loosened, and you wormed your way out from under him. He clutched his stomach and wobbled away from you. 

Once you were at a safe distance away from him, you dragged yourself to one knee. Your head spun severely as you tried to get up. It took you multiple times to actually stand on your two feet. The blood loss was starting to affect you. Meanwhile, Husk wasn’t looking too good either. His wings hung around him limply as he leaned his weight onto his good paw. Blood had matted and stained patches of his fur. 

You took a moment to analyze the situation.

Husk was hindered from physically moving, but he still had his claws and tail. You could still move freely, but your only weapon was in pieces on the ground. Sure you could run and use Vox’s energy, but for how long? You both stared at each other, panting, locked in a stalemate.

From above, you saw Alastor stand. His mouth moved, but his words were caught by the music. Something about his actions made you worry. He snapped his fingers. The swath of music increased in volume. You cringed, pressing your hands to your ears. An unbelievable force pressed on you from all sides, rattling your bones and shaking your eyes in your sockets. You glanced at Husk, he too was debilitated by the noise. 

The trumpets, flutes, organs rang in your head. A Symphony of sound bombarded you from all directions. You couldn’t move or breathe, stuck in a painful immobilization that weakened you at the knees. 

It was so regal and beautiful... _it was so painful._

When blood started flowing from your ears, you squeezed your eyes shut, screaming. But even those were drowned out by the noise.

 _Fall_ , the music said, pleaded with and commanded you. _Stop resisting._

You struggled against Alastor as much as you could, but you were no match for his power.

 _Fall_.

You fell to your knees. The music continued. 

You were on your hands and knees. The symphony was reaching a crescendo. 

With no energy left in you, you fell flat on the ground. The pressure continued for a last high note, squishing you like a pancake into the floor, and then it finally stopped. 

You gasped at the sudden relief of pressure, coughing into the ground. The energy that surrounded you earlier was gone and so were the blue and white lights. The torches lit up again with their usual orange and red fire. 

A wet liquid was flowing out of your left ear. You pressed your fingers to it. Blood coated them as you pulled it back.

 _Shit_.

Alastor’s shadow fell over you. You let him roll you onto your back. His smile was mocking as he pressed a foot to your hip. Not exactly painful, but enough to let you know to stay down. You grimaced. Your hand came up to cup the sole of his shoe before you thought better, letting it fall back down. His mouth was moving, but you could only hear the ringing in your ears.

His smile dampened when he realized you couldn’t hear him. He snapped his fingers a few times in front of your face. On the third snap, your hearing painfully popped back in.

“There! That’s much better, isn’t it?” He summoned his radio and bent at the waist. He pushed aside your jacket with the end of his staff and then plucked the disk from your pocket. His fingers never so much as grazed the hem of your clothing.

What a gentleman. 

He straightened up, turning it over in his hand. 

“Since your Boss has oh so _graciously_ passed the buck, allow me to enlighten you.” He flipped his microphone over his knuckles. It swooped down towards your face in a downward arc. Just when you thought it would bash against your nose, he grasped it at the last second, stopping it a centimetre from your face.

“See this?” He rotated it back and forth. Your eyes caught on the red concave back plate that encased the actual microphone. “ _That_ is an amplifier.”

He twirled the microphone back up. He held the disk he had stolen from you up to the mic and the two melted together.

You stared at the sight in fascination, blinking a few times before sighing tiredly. “Do you enjoy this, making my job a nightmare?”

“While I would normally say yes, I think I’ve been very nice to you! I even let you crash one of my cars last time, remember.”

“Yeah before you nearly snapped my neck you-”

“Regardless,” He interrupted. “This isn’t about you, my dear. Despite what you may think of me, I don’t have some sort of vendetta for you. You’re not that important.”

“Thanks for telling me what I already know.” It was obvious Alastor, in the end, only cared about your connection with Vox. Despite any of his other…actions. “What’s this got to do with Vox?”

“This and many other ancient relics in Hell allow certain demons to gain immense power.” he tapped his microphone. “Amplifiers like these allow for communication or broadcasts throughout all of Hell, regardless of where the user is. You can see why that’s appealing to someone like him.”

The power to broadcast over all of Hell…That sounds like something Vox would want to do. Especially if Alastor was already in possession of one, or more.

“Yeah, I can. Do they increase in power when you stack them, or?”

Alastor gazed down at you. It was the same gaze as always, but for some reason, this look seemed to be different from the rest.

“You don’t seem very upset for someone who just lost.” He stated.

You shrugged, or tried to. “Why should I be upset? And answer my question.”

“I just stole the very item your master demanded you retrieve.” He said, ignoring your question. You decided to let it go. 

“Well, yeah. But what am I supposed to do, fight you when I’m drained? Go home and cry about it?”

“Yes. You’re a very emotional creature.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.“Well, I’m not. And I’m not going to.”

“Mhm…” Alastor hummed. “In any case!” He stepped on your chest as he walked over you. You let out a strained ‘ow’ as he did. “This has been very entertaining, come along Husker! We still have a show to catch.”

Husk limped his way out of the tent. Alastor didn’t try to help him in any way. You knew Husk probably would have lashed out if Alastor so much as tried to touch him.

“Until next time, Assistant.” Alastor bowed. He exited the tent, the sound of him cheerfully talking to Husk faded until you couldn’t hear him anymore.

You closed your eyes and laid back, tracing the dirt floor with your fingertips. You were exhausted from the battle. It had taken more out of you than you expected. Even Vox’s power, which was normally flowing through you steadily, seemed drained, too. 

A jingling made you open your eyes. The ringmaster was standing above you. “This is not a place of rest. You must leave.”

“Just give me a few minutes.” You said, closing your eyes again. “Please.”

You felt a cool breeze wash over you. When you opened your eyes you had been teleported outside. You groaned, getting to your feet. It would be dark soon, and you couldn’t be stuck in Wonderland.

As you left painfully, you looked behind you. The midnight blue tent was gone.

\---

It took you three days to get back to Pentagram City. For three miserable days, you slogged through the desert, forest and other cities. The only break you had was a three-hour nap you took after climbing on a moving cargo train.

“You look like hell,” Vox said as you walked into his suite back at the sky tree. He had been idly flipping through some papers on the couch.

You were covered in dirt, your body was still achy and bloody from the fight, and your travelling cloak was left in shreds. 

“No shit.” You said dryly.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at your snappy mood. “What, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

‘ _I didn’t wake up on the wrong side, I woke up on the fucking floor._ ’ You thought, cursing yourself when you realized Vox could hear it, if he wanted to.

“Vox, I’m not in the mood for-” You cleared your throat. “Boss. I went to the location you told me to go to. But I don’t have the amplifier.”

“…What?”

“It’s a long story.” You said, drawing a stool over and sitting down. You recounted the entirety of your journey and the events with Alastor, omitting some of the back and forth remarks. (you didn’t need him calling you ‘ducky’ on top of ‘dollface’, ‘kitten’, ‘baby’...and everything else under the sun.)

“Well that’s a shame,” He sighed, sitting back. “I had a feeling you’d come up empty handed, though I didn’t want it to be true… I’m glad I prepared for incompetence.”

Wait, what?

“I don’t understand…” you said. Vox took his top hat off of his head, turning it’s backside over to you. Sure enough, there was the faint metallic glint, similar to the one on the disk at Wonderland.

He had an amplifier.

He already had one.

The thing that you got bruised and beat up for, _he didn’t really need_?

“Wonderland isn’t the only area that has ancient relics, and the ringmaster isn’t the only demon who’s in charge of handing them out.” He explained, flipping the hat back on his head. “While you had your little _vacation_ , I went somewhere else and picked this up. I even made it back before yesterday’s lunch.”

You fought back a frustrated scream. Of course, he sent you on the hard and complicated journey, _of course._ And of course, he knew everything about the mission and the ringmaster and the relics.

“So I was a decoy this whole time?” you laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me what I need to know, but this time I had _nothing_.” You were still mad about that part. Did he withhold information out of plain spite, or was he still finding ways to make your work even more challenging?

“You weren’t a decoy. The plan was for you to obtain a second amplifier. I didn’t expect on Alastor coming in and on _you_ not being able to keep it.” He sounded actually disappointed, clicking his tongue and staring at you sadly. “I even lent you a generous amount of my power, but that _still_ didn’t help you.”

Did he actually have the nerve to blame this on you?

“If I could have kept it, I would have. I couldn’t control Alastor stealing it from me. That’s not my fault!” you cried, exasperated.

“Lower your voice and watch your tone,” He warned, narrowing your eyes. “I don’t care about what happened. I care about the outcomes. In the end, you still have nothing for me, right? You failed.”

“I didn’t mean to!” You ran a hand through your tangled hair, growing more upset by the minute. “ _If you wanted it that badly, why didn’t you tell me?! Why didn’t you talk to me?_ ”

Vox was standing up now, eyes narrowed into slits. “I shouldn’t have to _tell you_ how to do everything. You should be strong enough to figure things out for yourself and now because of this…”

His words became numb to your ears. He went on and on about his work, his ‘empire’, and himself. Egotistical bragging and ranting that you’d heard a thousand times over and over.

Maybe on a different day, you would have taken it. You would have let his words slide off your back and continue on. But something about Alastor’s words stuck with you. 

_“You’re not that important.”_

A side piece, a servant. You weren’t even the focus of your life. It was all about _HIM_. And no matter what, you still weren’t good enough.

Vox was being ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

And right now, you were not ok with it.

Something snapped inside of you, raw emotions that you had pushed down for a long, long time exploded to the surface.

“ _Shut up!”_ you screamed, voice cracking, nails digging into your hands. Everything was loud, too loud. “ _Just shut up!”_

You knew you messed up from the look on Vox’s face. Your stomach dropped, anger instantly gone. The room was deathly silent.

“Shit - Vox – Boss, I’m so sorry-”

“Come here.” He said hollowly, a mix of emotions stirring on his screen. With trembling legs, you gravitated towards him.

“I’ve had a very rough day…but I **_know_ ** you just didn’t say that.” He brushed a hand against your cheek and turned your face towards him. You whimpered at his touch. “Would you repeat yourself for me, doll?”

“I…” your heart was beating out of your chest and your palms began to sweat profusely. There was ringing in your ear. “Uh…”

“Come on baby,” Vox’s fingers tightened. “Don’t keep me waiting. Repeat yourself.” It was a command. 

“I said ‘Shut up’…”

Vox twirled his free hand in the air. You continued. “…‘just shut up’…”

Vox cackled lowly. The cackling grew, rising into hysterical gasps and cries. Your jaw tightened at the sound and you fought back a shiver.

“Oh…this is just too good…” he said between fits of laughter. “What makes you _think_ you have the right to say that to me?” 

“I-I’m, I’m sorry boss, I didn’t mean too.”

“Beg me, sweetheart.” 

You dropped to your knees, forcing sickness away from your stomach. 

“I am begging you, Vo-”

He cleared his throat. Nothing more than a bass boosted buzz

“Master.” you corrected, “Please.”

“Just repeating me ain’t’ begging. Now I said -” He ground his foot into your thigh, digging his heel into the bone. “ - _Beg_.”

Tears sprung up in your eyes. “ _I’m sorry_ !” You cried, almost screaming in pain. “ _I-I-I’m sorry Master!_ ”

Stroke his ego, sob for him, it didn’t matter what you had to do. All that mattered was making him forgive you. And to make him stop hurting you.

Black spots were dancing in front of your face when he finally pulled his foot off your femur. The relief was short lived, as he pulled you to your feet, half-dragging and half-leading you to the elevator.

“Vox, Vox what’s going on?” you choked, as he held you by the collar in the descending elevator. Vox said nothing. Which made you worry more and more about what was going to happen.

 _‘Basement level 1’_ an automated voice announced as the doors slid open.

No... _No_...he- he wouldn’t!

Vox led you down into the dark hallway as you struggled to remain on your feet. Your worst suspicion and fear was coming true. You wanted to throw up. Surely you were hyperventilating, but your scattered brain couldn’t focus on anything but the door in front of you. He pressed a hand to the door, and it opened with a slow groan.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know.” Vox said. You dug your heels into the linoleum as he dragged you into the pitch black room. When he let go of your shirt, you fell to your knees weakly. “But you leave me no choice.”

In an act of desperation, you grabbed onto the coattails of his suit. “Please Vox.”

“Please what, sweet cheeks?” He placed a hand to your head. It was so gentle it almost gave you hope that this situation could be remedied. 

“ _Pelase, please, please, please don’t leave me here._ ” You pleaded. “ _I’m begging you._ ”

His fingers dug into your hair roughly. He yanked your head back and pulled you off of him, laughing. He stepped out of the room and pressed a hand to the door. It beeped and began closing.

“No no no no NO NO,” Panic was starting to finally set in. You made one last attempt to reach Vox. “NO VOX-”

The door slammed shut, barely missing your fingers. You were plunged into complete darkness. The echo of metal rang throughout the room, before going completely silent, aside from your frantic breathing.

Horror filled you as you shrunk against the wall. There were movements in the dark. The quiet sound of metal scraping and dragging rang far away.

You knew what was going to happen. You’d seen Vox punish many of his servants like this. But you never thought this would happen to you.

The sounds were getting closer, you didn’t have much time left.

You’d seen the aftermath of these punishments before. One started, there was no going back.

A feeling of guilt suddenly rose in you, for not trying to help any of his victims in any way. But then again, what _could_ you have done?

“No no no no…” you mumbled. You called upon Vox’s powers, tried to reach him mentally, tried anything to generate a spark of light.

Nothing.

A hollow groan made you shiver. The sounds were closer now; they would be on you in any second.

No overlord to come to your rescue, no weapon to defend yourself. You were as good as a sitting duck right now.

Guess Alastor was right? Huh, a little ducky...

Tears flowed down your cheeks. You let them, there was no point of trying to be cool or collected anymore. No one would see your tears, anyways. Not even yourself.

You curled in on yourself and closed your eyes as the creatures of the dark fell upon you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lovely readers, I am so sorry for what I have yet to do.  
> What happened to our dear MC? That's a secret. All I will say is that they are alive. 
> 
> ...on a completely different note, have y'all seen robocop, the new character announced for Helluva Boss? God, I had this chapter planned for MONTHS and then they showed up the week before posting this. The ringmaster was inspired by the jevil from Deltarune, and robocop fits that whole aesthetic. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! And for all of your lovely comments too! (I may or may not have spent an entire day editing and writing a majority of this to get it out on time because I knew people were expecting this. Mama didn't raise a quitter.)
> 
> Tumblr/ Twitter:  
> @Comfeyworks


	6. Sea of Sin shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader goes through many emotions smack dab in the middle of nowhere.  
> The changes in everyday life are subtle yet apparent, but reality is always the hardest to wake up to.

Off the continent of the 5th circle lay a grand ocean called the Sea of Sin. It was a very dense body of blue and purple water that stretched for miles in every direction. Many demons stayed well away from its rough waters, even if they were naturally gifted swimmers or expert captains. For the dark depths of the sea held unknown creatures that lurked in its waters. They laid in wait for their prey to come along, silently moving through the dark. One mishap, one second of relaxation was all it would take for a siren to strike, and drag you down into the water…

“ _ Fore!!! _ ” Velvet cried as she swung her club, cracking loudly against the golf ball. It flew through the air in a large arc before splashing in the water two hundred yards away. She put her hands on her hips, grinning with pride. You clapped softly, being careful not to spill the beverage on your silver tray. Her head turned to you and she smiled. Letting the club clatter to the floor, she pranced over to you.

“Ooh, thanks!” She took the pink, bubbly drink from you, stirring and removing the tiny umbrella from the glass. She took a sip and shook her head side to side, squealing with joy. “ _ Gosh, that’s so good _ !”

Rightfully so, Vox only hired the best of chefs to travel on his private yacht. Even you found yourself drooling over some of the delicacies. Technically, you  _ could  _ have eaten or drank whatever you wanted, as Vox had granted you time off for the entirety of the voyage, but you were feeling queasy and you weren’t all that hungry to begin with. The last thing you wanted to do was end up retching your guts up over the side of the boat.

You placed your hand unconsciously over your stomach, brows furrowed. You hadn’t felt hunger for a week straight now. 

“You’re not gonna drink?” Velvet asked. She had already downed half of her glass.

“Oh, no, no,” you dismissed her with a wave of your hand. “No thank you.”

“You’re really missing out,” She giggled, grabbing your left hand with her right. The contact made your arm warm and tingly. “Come on, I’ve worked up an appetite.”

You didn’t need to follow her orders or run errands for her, as she wasn’t Vox, but you felt out of place trying to relax with a bunch of demons you didn’t know, servitude at least meant you didn’t have to socialize. Besides, Velvet was the nicer of the bunch and you enjoyed letting her lead you around like a lost puppy.

She dragged you over to the other side of the boat excitedly. There were a couple of umbrellas set up around the outdoor lounge, with numerous couches, chairs, and stools to sit on. Despite being rather large, it was still crowded with flashy sinners and demons. It baffled you; why anyone would accept the invitation to cruise along the Sea of Sin for fun. Probably to hound one of the overlords down and attempt to wriggle into their tight-knit power circle. 

Or maybe they just came for the food. 

You and Velvet swerved through the crowd to a large, plush loveseat. Even if ten people were sitting on it there would still be more than enough room to spread out comfortably. You spotted Angel along with Valentino and a few other demons you didn’t recognize on the couch. His smile was a bit tense as Valentino laughed boisterously and those surrounding him echoed it. When Angel saw you his eyes lit up. He quickly excused himself, laughing good-naturedly when Valentino refused to let go of his arm.

Velvet suddenly let go of your hand, waving you goodbye and crawling up alongside Valentino. You rubbed your arm as Angel slid up beside you a second later.

“Hiya babe,” he purred, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “How’s it hanging?”

“Good, Angel.” 

“How bout’ you and me go somewhere, er, quiet.” While his tone was casual, almost sultry, there was a pleading look in his eyes. 

“Sure,” you said, offering him your arm. “Let’s go.”

He pressed a hand to his chest and gasped. “Do you sure know how to treat a fella.” He broke out into a smirk, locking arms with you. 

You two quickly escaped to a secluded area by the stern. The noise from the engine created a constant hum of noise. It wasn’t horrible, it was just a bit irritating. Angel let go of your arm. “Fuckin’ finally.” He sighed, leaning onto the railing. “I was trapped talkin’ to Val for forever.”

“Mhm, he seemed pretty touchy with you earlier.” 

“Yeah well,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Y’know how Val is…”

Normally you could hold back any negative comments you had about Valentino, but that was because prying eyes and ears were  _ everywhere _ . It was never truly ‘safe’ to criticize Valentino or Vox, not in their own backyard. You looked out at the white foam trail that bubbled behind the boat. The hum of the engine would prevent anyone from eavesdropping on your conversation. You could speak freely without consequence, but if you were going to do it, you’d have to do so now. You wouldn’t get another chance for who knows how long. 

“Angel,” you started, unsure of how to phrase it. “Do you think...do you think Valentino’s a good boss?”

“What?” His eyes widened then narrowed. “What? Whaddya mean? Course’ he is...he pays me, doesn’t he?”

“That’s not…I mean...” you sighed, thinking about how best to put your thoughts. “Don’t you think he should, I don’t know, respect you a bit more?” Angel wasn’t like you, he hadn’t given his soul away to Valentino via a deal. Instead, he was in a  _ work contract.  _ But they were just as, if not more, dangerous than making deals. 

Work contracts were a slippery business. Regardless of how knowledgeable a demon was, they could still be easily deceived.    
They started with a simple, initial exchange. Work x hours, gain y amount. But over time the demands and intensity of the contract warps, and extra obligations can be added or cuts can be taken away freely. Debt increases. Income decreases. The line between employee and employer blends until the employee gets little to no payoff. 

The only way out of a work contract was to let the contract run out with the employee owing no debt to the employer. But completing work contracts was like trying to fill a cup with no bottom. It just didn’t work unless a miracle happened. 

Sure, you were working for Vox under similar rules, but at least with the deal, nothing new could be added or taken away  _ unless  _ another deal was made. That and you  _ knew  _ making a deal meant taking some risks. You weren’t sure if Angel knew the risks of his contract. 

Most demons were stuck with an eternity of work and debt when things went south, working themselves to near death in order to keep up with the demands. Angel was already working under Valentino when you first met him. So what was the status of his contract now? The horrible possibilities made you sick with worry.

Angel scowled. “He does respect me.”

“He was tugging on your arm pretty hard there, earlier.” You said. “And haven’t you  _ not  _ been able to go out of the studio the last time it was a busy weekend?

“That was because I had to help Val out, he needed me! I hafta’ pull my weight, you know,” Angel’s voice rose, sounding genuinely angry and upset. The engine would do nothing to muffle the sounds of him yelling if he started doing that. “And what about  _ you _ ? Vox makes you work late, he doesn’t let you go out sometimes cuz’ you gotta work - yer’ doing it as well, so what’s the problem?!”

“Look I didn’t mean - ” You started, then gave up. Arguing with Angel wouldn’t get you anywhere. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid thought. I’ll drop it.”

You two stayed quiet, listening to the hum of the engine and the roar of the waves for a long time. It was weird. You couldn’t recall a time when you and Angel were so quiet like this together. He normally carried the conversation even when you ran out of things to say, he was good at things like that. With each passing second, you began to regret your decision to say anything more and more. 

“Somethin’ wrong with your arm?” Angel asked suddenly, frowning.   
  


“What?”

He pointed to your arm. “You’ve been rubbin’ it on and off for a while now.”

“Oh,” You clenched your jaw, stiffly placing your arms at your sides.“It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He seemed unconvinced, but let the subject drop. “If you say so.”

“Ah,  _ there you are. _ ” 

You tensed, expecting to see the man with the TV head. But when you did, it was only Valentino. 

“Angie Baby,” Angel was tall, but Valentino was way taller. He loomed over the both of you, rose tinted sunglasses shining in the light. “Come with me, there’s an event I’ve signed you up for.”

“Oh yeah,” Angel smirked, puffing out his chest. “What kind? Pole dancin’, lap dancin’, strip poker-”   
“Water polo. You’re going to be a player.”

Angel visibly stiffened, confidence deflating like a balloon. He laughed tensely. “Hahah. Funny, Boss.”

“This ain’t a joke Angie.”

“Seriously?” Angel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Boss, you know I’m down for gettin’ wet - heh - but not with water! That stuff does shit to my makeup-”

“You remember what I said earlier, right Angie Baby?” Valentino hummed, drumming his fingers against Angel’s shoulder. 

“Yes, but I-”

“ _ Angel _ ,” Valentino purred lowly. Red smoke began to filter from his foul, yellow teeth. 

“ _ Remember what I said?” _

Angel bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with Valentino. A sense of urgency rushed through you.

“I can do it.” You said as nonchalant as you could. If Angel wasn’t in a position to say no, this was all you could do to help him. Valentino’s eyes shifted to you in surprise. “I mean if you just need a random player. Besides, I’d be better at it than Angel.”

Angel scoffed in indignation but didn’t say anything in protest. He eyed Valentino submissively, waiting with bated breath for his response. Valentino rubbed his chin, then smiled devilishly. 

“Alright then kitten, sure.” he placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you away. You looked back at Angel and gave him a half-smile, trying to assure him that you’d be ok.

He stared back, mouth agape. He snapped his jaw shut and furrowed his brows at you, confusion written on his face.

Then you and Valentino rounded a corner, and he disappeared from sight before you could wonder why you just did that. 

\---

You weren’t quite sure what the rules were for regular water polo, but there were certainly a few changes in this game. 

For one, the game took place on the ocean. Nets were set up in parallel to the yacht.

Secondly, all players were on jet skis. 

Thirdly, contact was not only permitted, but required. 

You were beginning to regret your choice the second you mounted a jet ski on the bottom deck. The hull was open to the sea, where many players were already out testing the waves and splashing each other with water. You gulped.

“This is your accelerator here,” The instructor said, pointing to one side of the handlebars. “The faster you go, the more stability you’ll have.” 

You realized there was something inherently missing in the controls. “No breaks?” 

“No breaks,” they said, smiling. “The water’s a bit rough today, so be careful. Or don’t. Good luck.” They patted you on the back, then gave you the signal to drive out. 

It was too late to turn back now. You took a deep breath and pushed the throttle. 

The jet ski shot forward at the slightest provocation. You were jerked back momentarily, and then you cleared the hull and began driving out on the open ocean. The salty breeze was refreshing to breathe in, and the wind raked pleasantly through your hair. 

“Oh fuck,” you laughed, as droplets of water sprinkled your face. It was surprisingly fun, even with the inky blue water that lapped at the sides of your feet. 

A mix of terror and glee filled you as you drove around, getting a feel for the engine. Other demons were having their own fun, chasing each other, spinning in circles, and riding the larger waves that washed by. You smiled. Moments like these were when you could forget that you were in Hell, where you could find peace in the chaos. 

“All players please gather on their respective sides!” A voice boomed through a megaphone. You looked at your jersey - a red one with the number fifty-three printed on it - and drove over to the left side. The demons with blue jerseys gathered on the right side. 

“Before we begin, here are the rules once more,” You squinted up as the sun momentarily blinded you. You realized in horror that Vox was the announcer and that he was looking right at you. He looked as surprised to see you as you were of him. He gave you a toothy grin, before turning away to address everyone. “The goal is simple - score as many points as you can in three rounds. Each round lasts fifteen minutes, with a five-minute break in between.”

Your happy mood was dampened by the sight of Vox. Should you be out on the ocean right now, did he want you out? ...No, no he gave you the freedom to do what you wanted on this trip. But that didn’t stop the anxiety that momentarily paralyzed you. 

Ever since your fight with Vox a few weeks ago, you’ve been trying not to upset him. He’s been mostly cheerful, thankfully, but you didn’t dare try and disrupt that in any way.

“One player may hold the ball at one time. The use of outside weapons or magic is prohibited. Other than that, all physical contact, kicking, tackling, punching, biting, is fair game! Guests onboard, you have three more minutes to place your bets over at the bar before we begin.”

Ahh, so that was the point of Valentino needing Angel. You spotted the moth staring down at you on the ship, smiling. Was he betting on the red team winning? If that was the case, Vox was definitely betting on blue, and his money would be lost if you won. 

And just like that, the fear was back. Fantastic. 

“Hey.” 

As you were debating what to do, a lion demon with yellow fur drove up beside you. “You good at this?”

“Uhh...yes?” You said with uncertainty. 

“You better be. We don’t need any weaklings holding us back.”

You clenched your jaw at his words. Maybe Vox would be angrier if you threw the game purposely. And if you did, Angel might face the wrath of an angry Valentino. You decided playing by the rules would have to do until the three rounds were over. It was the safest option for everyone. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Everyone in position?” Vox’s voice announced. The lion took position near the middle line. You rolled your shoulders, adjusting your grip on the handlebars. 

“Three...two...one…!” A gunshot went off and a ball was thrown up in the air near the center of the field. 

There was a brief scuffle as players from both sides lept for the ball. A burly, red demon who humorously resembled a crawfish clutched the ball, blue jersey flapping in the wind as he made a beeline to the red team’s net. He barrelled through your teammates, knocking them off of their jet skis and sending them into the water. He headed straight for you as well, smiling viciously. You swerved and jumped, reaching out at the last second and digging your nails into the soft foam of the ball. With a harsh tug, you pulled it out of the opponent’s grasp, landing back on your ski and racing to the opposite end. With the net exposed and unguarded, it was easy to throw the ball into it. 

“GOAL by number fifty-three! The first point goes to team red!” Vox said.

The crowd half the crowd cheered and the other half booed. Your teammates hooted and whistled at your opponents, mocking them. The lion from earlier gave an approving smirk. 

“Not bad, kid. Good job.” He clapped you on the back as you passed him.

You smiled humbly. “Thank you.”

The screams of warning came to you too late. You barely caught the flash of a blue jersey before someone ran into the side of your ski at full speed. An intense vibration rattled through you as you were thrown backwards and sent plunging into the water. 

Your immediate thought was to recall all of the horror stories you’d heard about the ocean. Darkness enveloped you from all sides, making it impossible to tell up from down. The water felt thick and suffocating around you, pressing in on your body. Fear flooded your system as you kicked and thrashed around, desperate to get to the surface. Your eyes and lips strung from the freezing cold water, it was much saltier than you remembered oceans being. You started to panic while struggling. What if you couldn’t find the surface? Would someone help you, or would you end up drowning? That’s considering nothing hidden in the water would get to you before then. 

The top of your head knocked painfully against something hard. You felt along with relief, feeling the hard plastic of the jet ski. You broke the surface, gasping for air. Shivering with the wind, you hauled yourself out of the water, coughing up black goo from your lungs. 

You blinked water from your eyes, squinting at the blue team. One of their members - the crawfish who knocked you over - was celebrating. 

You spat out the remains of salt from your tongue. Oh, it’s  _ on _ . 

“And it looks like number fifty-three’s back on their feet!” you heard Vox call distantly. The hearing out of your ears was a bit muddy. Maybe they had water stuck in them. 

The next time the ball was thrown in the air, you grabbed it and sped away, dozens of players chasing after you. The ocean had suddenly gotten choppier, and you found yourself almost losing balance more than once. You looked behind you to find the crawfish demon trailing you. Even though he was large and had an advantage when it came to brute force, it also made him slower on the jet ski. You on the other hand were both smaller and lighter than most of the other players on the field, giving you a speed advantage. 

The next large wave, you pretended to fumble the ball and dropped it. The crawfish demon picked it up. 

“Hah! Loser.” He spat, elbowing you to the side and spinning towards the red team’s net, spraying you with salty water. 

You rubbed water from your eyes and pursued him. He looked over his shoulder, a confident and snarky smile pulled on his lips. He thinks he's won. Even if you were to catch up to him, it would be impossible for you to pull the ball from his hands again without any momentum. 

What he doesn’t expect is that when the next coming wave comes, you push the throttle as far as it goes. Suddenly you’re in the air. There’s a feeling of weightlessness as your stomach drops, and you just have the time to see the look of realization and horror on the crawfish’s face before you come down onto him. The bottom of the ski makes a sickening crack against his skull. Stunned, the ball falls from his hands. You scooped it up easy and passed it to another teammate, who scores another goal. 

The crowd went insane. Valentino barely contained his laughter as Vox watched on with his lips pressed into a thin line. A sudden wave of anxiety ran through you at the sight. Oh jeez, maybe you took it a bit too far.

“Hey number fifty-three!” You turned and raised your hand just as one of your teammates clapped your hand. “That was sick.”

You forced a weak smile to your face. “Was it? Thanks.”

“Try to keep it up, round one isn’t even halfway done.” They said, before driving away.

You sighed. Round one wasn’t even over, and you had three more to go? 

This was gonna be a long day. 

\---

You played nice for the rest of the game, making no drastic plays or movements, but still supporting your team as much as you could. By the time the game was done, you were exhausted.

“That was so cool!” Velvet squealed in your ear. You shook your head, unclogging water from your ear. “I can’t believe how strong you were! You ripped the ball out of his hands like it was  _ nothing _ !”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, pulling your hair from your face. “I don't know if Vox was too proud of it, though. Seeing as we won.”

“Pshhh,” She waved her hand to the side and rolled her eyes. “Voxy’s a business first pleasure never kinda guy. Wait. I guess ‘pleasure sometimes’ because he and Val-”

“ _ Oohhhhhkay _ ! Too much information!” You interrupted. Knowing about Vox’s  _ private life  _ was not something you were mentally prepared for today. Nope. “Now’s the time where I’m gonna head out.”

She pouted. “Aren’t you gonna join the party?”

“Save me a spot,” You shook yourself like a wet dog, causing Velvet to shriek with laughter. “I have to get dry first.”

“Ahhh stopppp! You’re gonna get my phone wet - AHH - goooo! Get away!! I’ll see you then, bye-byes!” She waved, heels clicking as she ran off. Your smile slowly faded. You let your shoulders sag. God, you were wiped. 

You peeled your sopping wet jersey, and the extra layers you had from your body with relief and graciously accepted the towel and drink given to you by one of the attendants. You took a seat on a lounge chair away from the crowd of people and laid your wet clothes down beside you to dry. The rest of the clothes on your body would just have to dry with you wearing them. You ruffled your hair with the towel and then hung it around your neck, watching smokey grey water drip from your hair. The sun was setting on the horizon. It provided a nice warmth as you soaked up the rays. 

You had hoped Angel would show up again so you could talk to him, but you hadn’t seen him. And now you were too tired to hunt him down. Hopefully, he had been watching you during the match, at least. 

You stretched the knots in your back and rolled your left shoulder with a wince. Your arm had bent funny when you were thrown into the water, and a dull pain pulsed through it occasionally. You massaged the palm of your left hand with your right and curled and flexed the fingers. You weren’t shivering from the cold anymore, but your skin was still mildly cool. You squished at it curiously. 

“Hey!” Your calm reprieve was interrupted by a gruff voice. You saw the demon, the crawfish one who you landed on with the jet ski, barreling over to you. 

“Ah shit,” you took a sip from your drink and placed it on the small table. You expected a fight but you just hoped you’d get more time to relax before that happened. 

“You have some fucking nerve,” He ragged, nostrils flaring. A large ice pack was held to his swollen and bruised temple. “Doing that shit to me, I’m gonna -”

“Now now, Brutus.” Your stomach flipped at the soothing voice that came from behind you. Vox strolled over to ‘Brutus’ and patted him on the shoulder. “You know it was all part of the games, don’t you?” 

“Lay offa this Vox, this may be your place but I-!”

“Have you seen some of the latest posts online and on social media? They’re bad enough, with the ‘wipeout’ you took earlier,” He smiled serenely. “Don’t you think it would be embarrassing for everyone to know you were so poorly incapacitated by someone who’s  _ not even a demon? _ ”

Brutus scowled, glancing between you and Vox. “That’s why I’m here to beat the shit-”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s  _ so  _ infuriating, I know. But by now, the rumours have already spread through social media, what good will lashing out in anger do other than temporarily reduce stress?” He placed his hands on your shoulders. A shiver ran up your spine. “Here’s an offer. Forgive this one for their  _ unforgivable behaviour _ , and I’ll make sure this whole mess is wiped clean from the records.”

Brutus sat processing the dilemma for a few seconds, before growling and giving in. “Fine. Just this once, Vox.” He stomped away. Vox released a breath and removed his hands from you. 

“That was easier than I thought,” He hummed to himself. He squatted to be eye level with you. “You alright?”

“Why did you do that?” you croaked. You wanted to run away, but you felt frozen in place under his gaze.

“That’s a question?” He ran his hand over your chin. “Because I care for you. And I don't want to see me hurt.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Should I be?”

You could hear your blood pounding in your ears as a hot flash ran over your body. Your shoulders relaxed a fraction. “No.”

“Then I’m not.” He took a seat beside you, leaving at least two feet of space. “You were quite the sight out there.” 

“Was I?” you gnawed on the bottlecap of your drink, just to give you something to distract yourself with. 

“Yes. You had me worried for a second when you went under the water but….heh, I guess we know you don’t melt.” He laughed at his own joke. 

You didn’t laugh. Vox looked at you, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“You said you cared about me?” you whispered. 

“Of course,” His gaze softened. “You don’t believe me?  _ You’re invaluable.  _ I promise, I never want to hurt you.”

“But haven’t you already?” you said before you could stop yourself. 

Vox narrowed his eyes, then sighed, tiredly. “Look,” He took your hands, holding them easily between his palms. “I’m not proud of what I did that night. I scared you. It was a long day and we were both tired, we both did things we shouldn’t have. And when you started yelling I just - lost control. But  _ never  _ meant to cause you harm in any way. Let’s just call things even and drop them.  _ It  _ won't happen again and I won’t harm you if you follow the rules, okay?”

You bit your lip to stop the curl of disgust forming. A tense knot formed in your stomach as a restless feeling settled across your skin. “Ok.”

He released your hands. You stood up abruptly, swaying on the spot. Vox caught your elbow to help steady you. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just a bit tired from the game.” You sighed, brushing wet locks of hair from your eyes. “I’m gonna lie down for a bit.”

“And miss the after-party?” Vox called, but you were already walking away.

“It’s fine, go without me!” you waved at him before disappearing below deck. Vox watched as you disappeared from sight, then smirked to himself.

“Interesting…”

\---

You were thankful that the hallways were narrow. They gave you something to steady yourself with as your feet shuffled against the carpet, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

You were almost there when a huge explosion rocked the corridor and the door to your left suddenly burst open. Smoke and gas flooded the hallway as a figure wearing something similar to a welders mask stepped out. He hacked and coughed, waving the air in front of him to disperse the clouds, and closed the door again. The figure removed the mask and the familiar shape of a lure popped out, dangling above his head. 

“Evening Baxter.” You said. “I didn’t know you were on the ship.”

Baxter rubbed soot away from his eyes and squinted against the bright, harsh lights illuminating the hallway. 

“O-oh, you,” he said in recognition. “Yes. I-i am here. Despite my distaste for the sea, Miss Velvet’s r-request.”

“You don’t like the sea?” You asked, almost laughing. He was an  _ anglerfish _ , after all.

“No. I d-don’t,” His face hardened and his fins pressed tightly to the sides of his head, eyes glazing over in thought. “B-b-bad memories.”

“Oh.”

“A-and it’s quite ignorant to a-assume someone would like an environment just b-b-based on what species they are.” 

“You’re right, sorry.”

“Hmph.” he said, wiping the grime from his mask. He knelt to the floor and fiddled with a cloth shoved between the bottom of the door and the floor.

“Are you doing some sort of experiment?” you asked, stepping around him to look at what he was doing. 

“Since I’m s-stuck in this... _ metal coffin _ for the next few days, I might as well take ad-advantage of its location and resources-s.” he said, pulling the cloth free and stuffing it into his pocket. 

“I see. What exactly are you doing?”

“I-it’s best t-to ask what I’m  _ not  _ doing.” 

“Alright, what are you  _ not  _ doing?”

He stood back up and glared at you, pupils narrowing into slits. “Not separating sodium chloride from dihydrogen monoxide by using electrolysis.” He kicked the carpet at his feet, sending a puff of smoke in the air again.

“Uh, huh...” you said, not even pretending to know what that meant. “Can I help you?”

“No n-no you can’t possibly help,” he paused, noticing the towel around your neck. “Wait. Yes, give me, g-give me that.”

You removed the towel from your shoulders and held it out to Baxter. He felt around his coat, then frowned to himself. 

“Stupid tongs going missing...ok, you, j-just, hold still, ok?” You were as still as a statue as Baxter snatched the towel from your hands. “Perfect. It’s still damp - ugh, and it still has your fluids...” He muttered to himself as he slid on the mask and hurried into his room.

You blinked as the door slammed shut. It emitted smoke for a second more, then the flow stopped. A minute later Baxter popped his head out of the door. 

“May I keep the towel for now?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” you didn’t want it back anyway, it was just a soggy towel. 

“Good. Because it’s um, ‘unusable’ right now...” His fingers twitched along the doorframe awkwardly. “Well uh, you can go n-now.”

You felt like you were being shooed away like a child at bedtime. You sighed. “Goodnight, Baxter. Have a pleasant rest of the trip, if we don’t see each other again.”

“I won’t. You won’t.” He said accordingly, retreating into his room and locking the door. 

“You’re welcome.” You whispered to no one. Your vision suddenly tilted and you placed your hand out to gain your balance yourself again. “Fuck.” Gritting your teeth, you hurried to your room. 

\---

You closed the door to your cabin behind you and leaned against it. Your legs shook as you closed your eyes and drew in deep breaths. 

_ The incident _ happened a few weeks ago, but everything’s been off since then. Different, alien, wrong.

“Ok, calm down,” you hissed to yourself, gripping the edges of the doorframe. “I’m alright, this is alright.” A cold sweat broke out over your skin.

_ It  _ doesn’t feel real.  _ It, it, it _ . What even is it? It’s an unknown feeling, a constant uncomfort that persistently nags at you. It's resilient, being barely noticeable at best and agony at worst.

Right now it was agony, like a phantom fire covering your entire body with no heat or flame. Maybe it was the water that triggered it, or maybe it just appeared randomly. Either way, you hated it. 

You staggered to the bathroom, bracing yourself against the sink. The coolness of the linoleum helped ground you into reality. You gripped the edges until your knuckles turned white.

“Calm down, calm down,” you repeated to yourself, closing your eyes when the boat was rocked by a sudden wave. An intense feeling of sickness overtook you.

Whatever was happening to you was unknown. You didn’t understand it, didn’t want to because nothing  _ should  _ be happening. Everything should be ok and normal, so why were you feeling this way? 

You felt like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin. 

You balled the hem of your shirt into your mouth and began screaming into it. You stopped when you became lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, sinking to the floor. 

Slowly, the pain went away. You counted every rock of the boat until your head cleared. 

Were you going crazy? Maybe it was the lack of food, or maybe you caught something a few weeks back during your trip to Wonderland. You decided it had to be one of the two. The thought of ordering room service briefly crossed your mind before you waved it away. You’d just get up and grab something once you were feeling better, maybe after a quick nap…

The inklings of dizziness were starting to come back as you made your way over to the bed. You crawled under the covers, letting the gentle sway of the ocean rock you into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got to see a bit more of a charismatic Vox in this one! My characterization/ theory is that Vox has a stage persona when he's trying to 'sweet-talk' people as well as a 'normal' one where he's more condescending and less sophisticated (as we've seen him act towards the reader before.)
> 
> You guys are probably all DYING to know - what on earth happened in the basement?  
> Well, that's a bit of the mystery. I'm trying to write it where the reader themselves doesn't know what happened/ is happening, while also having a suspicion to what's going on, *while* keeping that hidden from the audience. Its complicated and tricky to write, but interesting. I hope.
> 
> Vox knows, but is he gonna talk about it? No.  
> Is the reader *possibly* in denial about what happened? Maybe.   
> Are there clues in this chapter as to what happened to the reader? Yes. And there will be more in the future.  
> Will we find out what happens to the reader eventually? Yes :))
> 
> And so, the plot thickens...
> 
> Thank you for reading! Your comments are the joy I wake up to.
> 
> For those of you wondering about the writing/chapter stuff that doesn't have to do with the plot:
> 
> This chapter was really tricky to write. It was supposed to be one PARAGRAPH of next week's chapter, but I just kept adding and adding so...here we are. There was just so many good scenes to put in. The convo with Angel, Vox, Baxter. Reader's effects of 'the incident', increasing fear/ anxiety around Vox. Velvet's revelation that Vox and Val have a 'business partners with benefits' kinda relationship. The list goes on.
> 
> The current plan is to get the next... *checks script* 7 chapters out by the end of July and beginning of August. BUT that can all change with life and motivation and time and blah blah blah.   
> I always ramble towards the end, lmfao.
> 
> Again, Thank you for reading!


	7. Here in the garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and the Radio Demon have a little talk, where questions are both answered and created. The two call each other out on their weaknesses, and the reader seems to have a few ideas bubbling in their human brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we go any further, I want to make something abundantly clear. While some aspects of this fanfiction are inspired by the content of different religions, beliefs, and practices, it is in no way meant to be an exact representation of any particular set of beliefs. 
> 
> Mentioned locations and figures, such as heaven and hell, God and Angels, do not come from any particular religion. (They are not ‘The actual ones’ from any religion)
> 
> Louisiana Voodoo is referenced with Alastor, but I am not linking Alastor’s character or actions to the spiritual belief in real life. 
> 
> This is a fictional story and world that is separated from reality. Voodoo is a religion that is very important to many people. Because of that, I feel like it would be disrespectful to casually apply the term to a fictional character when it is 1: Not the main focus of the story, and 2: I do not want Alastor to be a reflection of the religion or to be a reflection of the people who practice that religion.
> 
> While I’m not going to state “X is exactly Y from this religion”, I feel that it is important to address and respect where some elements of my story are inspired from. So yes, Alastor’s mother and Alastor both practice something that broadly correlates to the practices of Lousiana Voodoo. And those connections and inspirations will show up in bits of the fic, which I will address and mention as they come up. 
> 
> For this fic, I have done my best to inform myself about various subjects including religion. (Abusive relationships, manipulation, etc.) I will do my best to write about them as respectfully and tactfully as I can. 
> 
> With that thank you for reading and enjoy!

Anglerfish were deep-sea creatures. They lived in the bottoms of the ocean where no light from the sun would reach them. That’s why you assumed Baxter’s laboratory was dark, too dark for your average eyes to see clearly. It was also insanely clustered, you found yourself running into tables or tripping over random objects every step you took. 

Vox had sent you over to assist Velvet...who in turn sent you to assist her assistant, Baxter. 

So here you were, in the gothic quarter of the city, lazing about in boredom. 

“But I d-don’t  _ want _ your help.” Baxter had insisted.

“It doesn’t matter if  _ you _ want it,” you had said back. “I have orders to be here. So like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” 

“F-fine,” he grumbled. “If you’re going to stay, g-go organize those jars over there.”

The chemist himself was working away at the various bubbling tubes and beakers on his bench. His usual jitteriness disappeared when he was working, replaced by smooth, collected movements. It reminded you of a conductor for an orchestra. He never looked at you as he worked; only speaking when it was to give quick, short word requests. ‘Tongs, pitcher, crucible’, things like that.

After a few hours of this after having organized all of the jars, you had grown bored, lying down on an empty table, gazing up at the tall ceiling. 

You almost missed the days when you were overwhelmed with work to do. At least then you wouldn’t be counting the cracks in the bricks for stimulation.

The sound of Baxter clearing his throat caught your attention. You shot up.

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

Baxter sighed. “Pass me the bay leaves. Second shelf, third jar to the left.”

You slid off the table and went over to the rows of jars near the far wall. You found the one labelled ‘bay leaf’ in messy handwriting and picked it up. 

“It’s empty.”

“What?”

“The jar is empty.”

“T-that’s impossible.”

“See for yourself.” You showed him the barren jar. Baxter walked over and looked at it. He sighed, hurrying to shut off the various bunsen burners by his station and flopped down onto his chair, running his hands through his head. 

“O-of course no bay leaves just as soon as it came time for the conjoining…” He muttered to himself, angrily ruffling his hair. “Perfect. Miss Velvet won’t be able t-to get them until tomorrow morning and by that time the window for potency will be closed and I-i’ll have to start over and-” He pulled out fistfuls of his hair, letting out an annoyed whine.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, crouching beside him. “What’s wrong, are they like super rare or something?”

“ _ Hardly _ . There’s a g-garden on the other side of town that holds them.”

You raised your eyebrows. Since when was there a garden in the city? “Ok...then, what’s the issue? Can’t you go and collect them-”

“ _ No I can’t _ !” He snapped, fins flaring up angrily. You took a step back in shock. “Because it’s outside across town and then I’ll have to either walk or take public transport which are both  _ intolerable _ because and there’s so much noise and light and nowhere to hide and everyone will be looking at me and I just-” he gasped for air, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. “You don’t understand.”

“Ok, alright.” You held your hands palms up, inching closer to him. When you spoke again was a soothing whisper, trying not to upset him in his panic further. “That’s true, I don’t understand. But I can try to help. If you can’t go, would you like me to get those leaves for you?”

Baxter didn’t respond immediately. His ragged breathing slowed until he lifted his head slightly.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’d really do that?” He whispered, voice small and weak. “You’re not joking?”

You nodded. “If you’d like me to.”

He hid his face into his knees and nodded.

“Ok. Can you tell me where it is and what they look like?”

Baxter unfurled from his position, reaching for a large tome that lay under the table. He hastily ripped out a page from the book and dipped a quill in an inkwell, scribbling furiously on the backside. 

“Here,” he slid the paper to you, avoiding eye contact, and relaxed back into his seat. 

You read the address before pocketing the note, picking up the glass jar.

“I’ll be off. You just...stay here and take it easy, ok?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, fingers plucking at the fabric on his lab coat.

Regardless of this answer, you figured he wanted some time to be alone and recuperate after his...episode, panic, thingy. 

You tucked the glass jar into your pocket, shut the door gently behind you, and headed off for a long walk. 

\---

Pentagram city was made up almost entirely of suffocating brick buildings, concrete sidewalks and cracked asphalt roads. Plants or signs of natural organic (?) life were nonexistent. Not even dandelions would grow between the cracks in the sidewalk. (Or the Hell equivalent of a dandelion) To your prior knowledge, there was no ounce of greenery to be seen in the city. 

But, apparently, you were wrong. 

You stood gaping at the tall iron gate of the park. Rich wildlife was encased in thick clusters on the other side of the bars. A sign by the entrance read ‘CAUTION: FERAL WILDLIFE’ and had a picture of a monstrous beast devouring a smaller creature. 

“Comforting,” you said to yourself, swinging open the metal gate and stepping inside. It latched back in place with a groan.

A stone path cut into the forest with small shrubs lining either side. Further away from the path laid dense vegetation, with plants that were as high as your head. Baxter hadn’t told you where you could find the bay leaves specifically, so you’d have to figure that out yourself. Sticking to the path seemed safe, but if the leaves you were looking for were far away from the designated route, you’d never find them. You’d just have to hope that you’d run into them eventually.

Holding out the picture of the plant for reference, and keeping an ear out for anything dangerous, you began your walk.

The further you travelled into the park, the more you felt yourself relaxing. It was like being transferred to a different world completely. The air smelt cleaner and richer than the smoggy air of the city. The outside noises of the cars and the general population faded away entirely, replaced by the sounds of insects humming and the natural whisper of nature. Sunlight streamed through the trees, creating enough light for you to see while also providing enough shade to protect you from the unforgiving heat of the summer sun.

There was the occasional snap of a branch or the shuffle of dirt, but thankfully nothing came onto the pathway. 

You stopped periodically to compare the plants along the path to the one you were looking for, but had no luck. One time you were certain you had found it, and were about to harvest the leaves when you spotted the little bud near the roots of the plant. You took a step back and waited as a fly landed on the leaf. The bud instantly opened, revealing its sharp fangs, and snapped the fly up. It swallowed and settled back into place, still as a statue.

You were extra careful about the plants you touched after that. 

You saw other living animals too, beings that looked like squirrels running in the undergrowth and birds with sharp pointy beaks who observed you curiously from the trees. None of them disturbed you, but they watched you pass by with unblinking stares.

You suddenly felt a pinch on your neck. You slapped it and pulled your back to see a dead mosquito, twitching in your palm with an orange substance smeared across your hand. Gross. You wiped the gunk off and onto your pant leg with disgust.

After about an hour of walking, you were starting to get tired. The walking wasn’t hard but keeping track of which direction you went in when the path split up was. Along with constantly crouching and squinting at plants that all seemed the same to you,  _ and _ fending off pesky mosquitoes, you were quickly becoming exhausted.

When you had just thought of accepting the failure and turning around, you spotted a break in the path. Up ahead lay a clearing next to a field, with a stone patio under the shade of a large tree. 

Your legs almost cried out in relief. Finally, someplace to rest and relax your feet. 

You were just about to take a seat at one of the various chairs when a voice made you jump. 

“Good afternoon, assistant.”

You spun around and saw the Radio Demon smiling at you, stirring a teacup in one hand.

“Lovely garden, isn’t it?”

\---

Every Sunday morning, Alastor started his day bright and early with a smile on his face. The first thing he would do was mentally prepared himself for the day ahead. This usually consisted of him going over his schedule, excitedly thinking about what he was going to do on that day, and reminding himself that he was ‘ _ Never fully dressed without a smile’ _ .

Then he would get changed. His suits weren’t like the ones made nowadays. No sir, these were  _ classics _ , just like the ones he had worn when he was living. (Albeit a bit more fancy and stylized to fit with the atmosphere.) He was a product of his time, and his wardrobe reflected that. He didn’t mind that his outfits were nearly identical, after all- 

“If it’s not broken, don’t fix it!” He said happily, buttoning his waistcoat over his dress shirt. Every article of clothing he owned (and he supposed his hair as well) were all different hues of red, and for a good reason. 

He remembered the lessons his mother taught him when he was a child, and the different meanings of the colours according to her work. 

_ “...Now red can mean many things. Energy, health, power.” She had said, tightening his bowtie. “So wear it with pride. And may it be a reminder to hold your head high.”  _

He smiled fondly at the memory, placing a hand to his bowtie. Hold his head high he did. Every day he smiled and flourished in the grim nature of his world, proudly decked out in shades of crimson. 

They were both a reminder and a warning of his power as an overlord. 

Psychological trickery aside, he chose red because wearing it felt like a part of her was always with him, protecting his health and giving him energy. She had molded him into the gentleman he was today. His manners, his style, his speech, his power, it was all thanks to her, and every day he was reminded of her…

And despite how sad it made him, he knew she was in a better place. After the life she lived, she deserved to be in heaven. 

And for his? Alastor knew he deserved to rot in hell. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Exiting his bedroom he put on the radio as he made himself a hearty breakfast. Another one of the many things his mother taught him as a young lad was the importance of being able to feed oneself.

He decided on a nice plate of grillades and grits. During his time, delicacies such as pancakes or beignets would be made on Sunday mornings, but Alastor wasn’t fond of sweet things. No, he liked his food bitter and bloody as it could be. 

After he finished his meal and cleaned up the kitchen, he decided to head out for the day, starting with his morning stroll around town. He donned his red suit jacket and a flat felt hat from the coat rack, and was out the door. 

His little home was located outside Pentagram city, (he detested the noise at night) but he was able to teleport into town in just a few seconds. Thanks to his shadows, he had spectacular travelling abilities. Simply step into the shadows and poof! But naturally, there was a limit to what he could do. He had to be within close proximity of an area to travel there instantaneously, as he was travelling by using the natural shadows of the landscape. Jumping from circle to circle took more time and effort as opposed to travelling within just one.

He held his arms behind his back and hummed along to the radio as he walked along the city streets. As he passed he noticed the other demons eyeing him warily. They either cowered in fear or slumped cautiously, pausing in respect to let him pass. 

He grinned. The  _ power _ he had, just to unnerve sinners by the sound of his shoes!

He rounded the corner and was greeted by Rosie and Franklin’s emporium. (But Alastor wouldn’t doubt Franklin being out of the picture in a few years time.) Rosie was a marvellous woman and a good friend of his. He would normally drop in to say hello, but her shop was unfortunately closed on the weekends.

But that didn’t mean the place wasn’t lively. In front of the shop’s entrance, there was a group of ladies crouching in a circle. In the middle were the remains of some poor fellow. Half of his torso lay on the ground, pulled apart at the ribcage. The women were wearing old fashioned dresses with fancy feathered hats, eating and tearing chunks of his flesh from his body. 

One of the most well-known fact about Rosie was that she attracted many people from a  _ certain  _ colony. One made up of mighty fine people that shared the same ‘ _ tastes’ _ (Pun absolutely intended!) that Alastor did. It was easy to tell them apart from the rest of the denizens of Hell from the way they dressed, and their speech. It was always a breath of fresh air wherever Alastor was around them, or visited their colony with Rosie. They were much more civilized than some of the other scum that existed in Hell. 

These people adored Rosie and flocked to her shop frequently. There were even a few who acted as guard dogs, protecting the shop from thieves and hooligans. But those bodyguards were smaller and more goblin-like in appearance, not like the women currently at the shop

How ironic, Alastor thought, to see such well dressed women gorging themselves on a bloody feast. It was a lovely sight.

When the women noticed him their eyes lit up in adoration and delight.

“Good morning Alastor!” They said in unison, smiling warmly. One woman waved at him with the dismembered arm from the body. 

Alastor tipped his hat to them respectfully, putting on his brightest smile. “Good morning ladies! What a lovely sight you are!”

They erupted into a fit of hushed giggles, giddy with his attention. He was aware that certain groups of all genders found him appealing (Don’t ask him  _ why _ , he had no idea.) It was nice sometimes, when they were respectful about it, but most of the time it was just a large headache for him. 

Not once had Alastor felt love for his admirers or for anyone really. Even as a human he always felt a disconnect between those fabled feelings of love. At first, he assumed the love songs he played on the radio were all hokey pokey! That was until he found out that people  _ actually  _ felt that way towards others.

It wasn’t that his feelings had been suppressed or that he was scared to love, but he never really felt attraction. He dabbled into romance once or twice as a mortal to test it out, but it felt unfulfilling and frankly, boring to him. He didn’t get the enjoyment or rush of emotion out of it that other people did. 

The most intimately he had felt towards someone was his mother, who was the only exception to every rule he had. She had always made him smile when she walked into the room, and he not only tolerated but craved her touch against his skin. She made his heart thrum with emotion, a pleasing squeeze in his heart that would make him do  _ anything _ for her. The love he felt for her was the only exception to his otherwise apathetic feelings.

His feet carried him over towards the more ‘electric’ part of town. One of the storefronts had a pyramid of TV’s stacked on top of each other. An advert with Vox on multiple screens caught his attention. He approached the TV’s, coming between two demons already watching the ad. 

“Nothing good nowadays, is there?” he said out loud. The demons beside him double-take when they saw his face, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

Each TV was playing a different video of Vox, from a different show or segment he hosted. They all overlapped over each other, building into a mess of noise that made Alastor’s ears cringe at the sound.

The demons beside him had taken off by that point, not wanting to be near the Radio Demon, but Alastor could care less about them. 

One by one, the screens one started to glitch together, forming one large image of Vox’s face. All of the audio tracks lined up, creating one clear sentence.

“ _ Hello there, Alastor. _ ” 

Then the screens went dark, and his logo flashed on the screen - a stylized TV with narrowed eyes and a wide smile. The letter ‘V’ was printed in the open mouth, with blood dripping out of one side. 

Alastor’s eye twitched. 

“Bah! All hat, no cattle!” He waved his hand, turning and walking far away from the store. 

He wasn’t impressed! Not at all! Nope!

“Alastor!” A friendly voice called from across the street. 

He turned, ready to lash out when he saw the butcher from his favourite shop waving him down. Violent urges pushed away for now, Alastor crossed the road and stepped through the entrance. 

“Leo!” he said cheerfully. “Good morning! How have you been?”

The two exchanged pleasantries and talked back and forth fondly for a few minutes. Leo was the owner of the butcher’s shop. He was Alastor’s go-to for the freshest and premium meats whenever he was looking for something. Alastor did enjoy hunting down his meals, but there were other meats Leo sold that Alastor couldn’t get, not easily that was.

“I wanted to tell you,” the butcher said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We just got something you’ll love.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. “Well don’t tease me old friend - show me!”

The butcher waited until no one was watching, then he casually reached under the shelf and pulled out a large paper bag. The bag was light brown, but the bottom was soaked and stained a darker colour.

The scent that drifted by his nose made him jolt upright. He sniffed the air and confirmed his suspicions. He was a hunter as a human, and because of that (And as much as he hated to admit it, thanks partly to his deer form-) he was very well accustomed to the smells of different meats. 

Alastor whistled, knowing full well what was in the sack. “Femur?” 

“Better. A whole leg.”

Alastor growled, mouth salivating at the prospect of raw meat.  _ Fresh raw meat _ . If he were to take it now, there was no way it’d last until supper. He’d devour the enter thing within minutes. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Bah! Take it.” the butcher pushed it into his hands. “And I won’t be having you paying for it either! It’s on the house.” he winked. 

Oh, what the hell.

Alastor gave in and took the bag, blood rushing through his veins wildly. “You’re too kind, old pall, my thanks!”

“Enjoy your meal.” the butcher said, waving Alastor goodbye as he exited the shop with a chime of the bell.

Oh, he would all right.

He hurriedly made his way towards his favourite park in town. It would be the best spot to dine on his meal and have his morning coffee. When he arrived to the clearing near the middle he saw that there were other demons already loitering about. He waved at them.

“ _ Hel _ -” The demons fled into the forest, leaving behind comically large clouds of smoke.  _ “-lo _ !”

Alastor pressed his lips into a thin line. At least he’d have the patio to himself. Now all by himself, he took a seat and summoned a pot of coffee with a cup and saucer. 

He contemplated whether or not he should eat his little gift as he downed his second glass of the day. But he wasn’t a patient man, and trying to ignore the smell of fresh meat was a lost cause.

As he summoned his shadow to set down a silver plate and utensils, he felt a judging stare from it. 

“Let’s just call it an early lunch,” he said in defense of himself as he unwrapped the goods from the package. He licked his lips. The meat was extremely fresh and was contained a lot of muscle.

Exquisite. 

He held off on gobbling the entire leg down, wrapping and sending away the thigh for later. After setting his portion on the plate he picked up the utensils, minding his manners as he took his first bite.

He put on some old tunes as he enjoyed his meal. No one disturbed him or even came into the patio, no one except for the quarrelling creatures that lived in the environment, fighting and devouring each other. They provided live entertainment for him as he ate. He even felt generous enough to feed some of his scraps to the victors. Fresh meat always lightened his spirits. 

When he finished he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, letting out a satisfied sigh. He did have other things he wanted to do today, but he was feeling tired after eating. Perhaps he could afford to rest just a bit longer... 

He had loafed around for a long time, longer than he should have. But the perfect weather and the food in his stomach had made him docile, like a cat basking in the sun.

The sound of footsteps made his ears perk up and eyes snap open. They were loud and gruff, like whoever was walking was dragging their feet on the ground. He sat back to see who it was, and to his surprise-

It was the assistant. Panting, squinting sunlight out of their eyes, relieved to make it out of the woods. 

He stared owlishly at them, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t still asleep. He was confused why he was taken aback slightly and that’s when he realized – this was the first time he’d seen them in daylight. The dusty warehouse, the rooftop, the roguish casino, the bowels of wonderland, those were all dingy places in which the light obscured some of the features he was now noticing.

The way the sun shimmered off the tips of their hair, the way they held themselves as they walked, that long-eyed stare that seemed to be looking past all that was happening.

Hm. Interesting.

The assistant sighed and moved to sit on another bench. They hadn’t seen him yet.

Oh.

_ Oh _ .

He grinned, and opened his mouth to say hello.

_ A perfect dessert. _

\---

Alastor sipped from his teacup in one hand, holding a local newspaper with the other. (Who reads  _ newspapers  _ nowadays? Alastor, obviously.)

“Why are  _ you  _ here?” you said accusingly. 

Alastor sighed at your prickly demeanor, folding the paper and placing it down on the table. “This park is open to the public, is it not?”

“I know  _ that _ , but why  _ you _ . You’re, y’know,” you waved your hand around. “An overlord. Don’t you have some private estate you can go to or something?”

He scoffed at that. “Not all overlords hole themselves up in grand castles or-” his eyes caught yours. “ _ -Skytrees _ . What fun is there in hiding in some secure bunker, hidden away from the world? I may be an overlord, but that doesn’t change the fact that I get bored. Besides,” he nodded to your left. “You can’t get better entertainment than this!”

You turned to see a monstrous bird with three rows of teeth devour a smaller bird of its kind. Saliva and blood dripped from its maw as it eyed you hungrily. Until the bird saw Alastor beside you, then it turned back towards the forest and flew off.

“Isn’t it just lovely!” Alastor exclaimed.

“Uh huh…” you nodded in a daze. “So...you’re really just sitting around here?”

Alastor made a noise of disapproval and shook his head. “Is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Well…” you couldn’t imagine Vox sitting around in a park by himself. The very thought made you laugh. Vox. Feeding the birds and eating crumpets in his free time. “What do you get out of it?”

“Out of  _ relaxing _ ?” he laughed. “How about enjoyment of life? I find this is quite a nice place to relax or to have a conversation, if I’m lucky.”

“Today must be a real treat, then, talking to me, I mean.”

“ _ Hah _ ! Yes, it’s quite rare for someone to actually say hello back, much less hold a conversation.” 

That must be disheartening, having everyone run away when you were just trying to greet them. But then again, it was Alastor’s fault that they were terrified of him in the first place. Building up a reputation as ‘THE RADIO DEMON’ wasn’t really the thing that would make others eager to talk to you. 

“While you’re here, care for coffee?” He asked, twirling his finger in the air. The pot of coffee floated in the air and refilled his cup with the dark brew. 

Your refusal was on your tongue the second he asked, but you stopped yourself. You did need a break, and since Alastor was in a talkative mood, maybe you could get some of the answers that had been building up over the past few months out of him. 

“Sure. Why not?”

He seemed surprised by your acceptance, but it was no more than a brief flicker on his face. He quickly regained himself. “Please, take a seat.” He waved his hand and his shadow pulled out the chair for you. You sat and it pushed your chair into place. 

“Thank you,” you said to the shadow. It’s grin stretched further as it hissed pleasantly, returning to its master.

Alastor slid over a cup to you and you blew gently onto it.

“You prefer coffee over tea?” you asked, taking a tentative sip. It was still scorching hot, and scalded your tongue. 

“Yes. I’m not fond of...leaf water.” Alastor rubbed a black rose from a nearby plant between his thumb and forefinger. The flower wilted at his touch, flaking into dust and being carried away by the wind.

You watched the display idly, hiding your shock into your coffee cup. Just how rotten was his soul that everything he touches dies?

“So!” Alastor announced with a clap to his leg. “Since you’ve interrogated me on my reason for being here, I think it’s only fair I ask you, don’t you think?” He crossed one leg over the other, turning his full attention to you. “So tell me, what brings you to this fine location on this fine afternoon?”

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“Won’t I?”

“I’m looking for bay leaves.”

“Oh, those lovely herbs!” He raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. He pointed towards the path on the opposite end you came from. “Go down that way and take the first right, there will be a bushel of them underneath a tall sycamore.” 

“Oh,” you said, surprised at how helpful he was being. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Are you using them for cooking? I know of a wonderful recipe for soup that uses them!”

“Not cooking no, just collecting them for uh...” You paused. Was Baxter your friend? Possibly. But that term wasn’t one used often. People who called others ‘friend’ usually wound up being backstabbed by them. “...a work associate.” 

You could see the joy in Alastor’s eyes fade instantly. “Hm. I see.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you sipped from your cups, watching the other animals and creatures of the park claw and kill each other. You averted your eyes for some of the more gruesome parts. You were accustomed to blood and gore because of your job, but you weren’t entertained by the violence. 

That’s when you saw the leftover bones on a silver plate.

“...”

Was that a leg of a human or a demon? 

And more importantly- 

Alastor had eaten it?

“...”

You decided not to think of it much longer. You had other things you needed to worry about. You took a deep breath. Time to talk business. 

“Radio demon.”

“Hm?”

“May I ask you a question?” 

“Go ahead. But I won’t promise I’ll answer you.”

That was fine, you just needed to get him talking. “How do you tie into  _ this _ ? This back and forth game with Vox, and by association, with me. Showing up wherever I go-”

“You came here on your own.” he clarified. 

“-Aside from this time. You say it’s ‘To stop Vox from getting power’ or whatever, but I don’t buy that.”

“Why not?” he questioned back, amusement written over his face. He was enjoying this little game you had started, and now it was your turn to attack. 

“This isn’t about Vox specifically. Or it is, but he’s some kind of end goal or constant factor. I don't even think you want power either. If it were about power, you wouldn’t have bothered with half the stuff you do, showing off your abilities, socializing with the  _ common folk _ like myself-” He chuckled at that.“- because if you really were  _ about power _ , you wouldn’t be here right now, talking to a sinner who’s soul is owned. Isn’t that the quickest way to power down here?”

“It is, usually,” he swirled his teacup in one hand. “But just like everything, there’s always loopholes.”

Loopholes, huh. You sat back, mind spinning in contemplation, not knowing if you should ask what your heart wanted to know. 

“You seem to want to ask another question.” He stated, taking one glance at your face. “What is it?”

“Are there loopholes to  _ everything _ ? Truly?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” 

You thought back on everything Vox had done up to that point. Building a communications skytree, claiming hold of the media stations, looking for ancient relics, inviting wealthy demons onto his yacht and becoming buddy-buddy with them. 

He was preparing for something.  _ But what _ ? If Alastor’s end goal was to keep Vox underneath him, Vox’s goal was to surpass him. 

And if that was the case-

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Sure.”

“I think Vox has already found a loophole. And he plans on using and exploiting it as much as he can to gain power.”

Alastor burst out laughing. You felt your face heat up. “Ohhh you’re so naive, thinking you know everything about the world we live in.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the corner of his eyes. “No. I know for certain Vox can’t use this loophole.”

“How are you so sure?” you said, trying to recover some of your shattered pride.

His eyes began to glow, the static of sound increased around him. “Because it’s the one  _ I use. _ And Vox is not capable of using it.” He broke out laughing again. “ _ He’s not _ .”

Laughing. He was laughing because he found it funny.  _ Why did he find it funny _ ?

“Who’s to say there isn’t another one? You said ‘this loophole’, meaning the one  _ you _ use, but isn’t there a chance that there could be another one?”

Alastor’s eye twitched in annoyance. You were very insistent when you had the courage to be. “I suppose so. But it’s highly unlikely, if it was something  _ he  _ could figure out, every random joe would be exploiting it.” 

There it was. That type of tone he used when referring to the TV overlord. You drummed our fingers against your leg. “You talk about Vox like he’s some rich kid who only got where he was because of his father’s money. But I don’t think you understand just how much power  _ he has _ and how intelligent  _ he is _ .”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t doubt you’re powerful. Extremely powerful. But I know that if Vox was as insignificant as you said he was, you would have wiped him out already. At the same time, if Vox was more powerful than you, he would have already taken you out.” 

“ _ Are you calling me weak to my face? _ ” he hissed, the air around him thickening. You ignored it.

“Not at all.” you tilted your head, giving him a charming smile. “I just don’t think you realize how much confidence you place in your abilities, and how much you underestimate your enemies.”

The cup in his hand nearly broke. Your eyes shifted to it, then back to his face. It was glowing red. 

“You do realize I could slay you, correct?” his voice was low and thick, putting a harsh end to every word he spoke.

“I know that,” you drew a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest. “But you won’t.”

“ **_Oh?_ ** ”

“I think  _ you _ need me for something. I don’t know what, but it’s why you’ve been playing nice and not obliterating me every time we meet.”

He choked you, made you temporarily lose your hearing, and was annoying at times, but he hadn’t sought you out to directly harm you. He had to have  _ some reason _ for doing that. Otherwise, why did he toy around with you at Wonderland, when he could have easily crushed you on the spot?

Your eyes drifted to the bones on the ground. When you looked at Alastor you knew he had seen you looking at him. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes, his red and glowing and yours dilated, full of adrenaline. 

“I don’t  _ need  _ anyone,” he growled. “Especially not  _ you _ .”

“If you say so,” you continued, brushing your hair to the side and pulling your shirt down, exposing your neck. Alastor’s pupils dilated. “Then get rid of me here and now. Rip my neck out with your teeth, consume my flesh and drink my blood.”

You weren’t playing with fire; you were playing with a goddamn inferno. Alastor’s static surrounded you. You closed your eyes and swallowed, waiting for his teeth to rip into your jugular, for him to laugh and pin you down, tearing chunks of skin off your body. 

You waited, body tense and trembling from anticipation. 

Through the storm of static, you heard his voice. 

“You're  _ truly _ something else,” Alastor sighed, turning away from your offer. His static decreased until it disappeared. 

Holy shit.

You were right!

“Don't let it get to your head,” he snapped, clearly upset or frustrated. Or both. “Be glad I’m not hungry.” 

“One more question.” Alastor sighed at your words, annoyance clear in his body language. “It’s nothing like that, don’t worry.”

“...ask.”

“What was in that envelope you ripped up?”

“Which one?”

“You know. The night I drove around and you came to the bar and were like ‘Husker my good friend!’, that one.” 

“Ah yes, I remember.” Alastor stared into his teacup. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” you breathed. 

His eyes flickered towards you. “Even if that goes against your master’s orders?”

You stopped, remembering what Vox told you the other day. 

_ ‘I won’t harm you if you follow the rules, ok?’ _

Telling Vox’s greatest enemy about what he  _ might  _ have planned and throwing wild assumptions was enough reason for him to...to throw you in the basement again. And prying into the personal details about his work? 

You’d be disposed of immediately. 

But you had to know. For one reason or another, you  _ knew  _ you had to start doing something, even if that meant going behind Vox himself. 

“Yes,” you repeated with confidence. 

“He invited my… ‘friend’ Husk to have a conversation with him.”

“He wanted to just talk? Why?”

“I’d assume to try and wriggle information about me out of him. Either that or try and persuade him to do a few  _ favours _ .”

“You mean like spying?” 

“Precisely. One of the lesser-known facts is that while dealmakers are very powerful, the ones we make deals with are both our greatest strength and greatest weakness.”

Your pulse increased. “Greatest weakness how?”

He smiled slyly, eyes lidded as he all but purred. “You’re smart. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

You chewed on the tip of your tongue, it was hot and tender from the light burn.

Alastor cleared his throat. “Any more questions about overthrowing your tyrannical boss?”

“What,” you stammered, eyes widening. “T-that’s not what I-!”

“Of course it’s not, I was just joking,” he said dismissively, stretching his arms. “Well, it’s getting late, shouldn’t you be getting home now?”

His message was clear - the conversation was over, and you were not welcome anymore. After already tempting him once, you didn’t think pushing him any further would turn out well for you. 

You stood up, placing the cup back on its saucer. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Take care,” he nodded. “Oh, and be careful with that  _ bravery  _ of yours. Not everyone will be as accepting or controlled as I was.”

You left the patio, a million thoughts running through your head as you pushed yourself forward on achy legs. 

…

..

.

Alastor remained perfectly still even hours after the sun had set, mulling over his thoughts in his cup which had cooled a long time ago.

His shadow rose from the ground, a grand silhouette that stretched over the dark sky. When it spoke it was nothing more than a soft hiss, sounds that no one else but he could understand. 

“No, I don’t think the assistant will tell Vox about today. Just a hunch.” 

His shadow hissed.

“If that brick head was listening in, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Hiss.

“No, I didn’t harm them. I can’t afford to. If I even scared them, that would be enough to ruin whatever ‘trust’ they currently have in me. And where would that lead us?”

...hiss.

“Right. Nowhere.”

The assistant coming out of nowhere was an unexpected surprise, but a welcome one. 

But yet…

Another hiss. 

“You noticed it, didn’t you,” Alastor rubbed his chin. “I know. There’s something different about them...but I can't quite place my finger on it.”

Hiss, a whiny one, an impatient one.

“ _ Patience _ .” He cooed. “Let the doubt for Vox grow more. And  _ that’s _ when we act.”

His shadow huffed, antsy for some action. Alastor had to agree. He was never one for patience, and the agony of waiting was driving him mad. The only thing keeping him at bay was the thought of what would come.

His fingers twitched, his smile straining dangerously across his face.

He had wished Vox luck the last time they had met. He would need luck if he was planning on coming out on top once the dust settled, once the last chess piece fell.

_ If he thought he could take and keep what was HIS without repercussions. _

He wasn’t lying, bravery was a dangerous thing. 

“Now we wait, to see which of the two evils our assistant trusts more.”

\---

You opened the door to the laboratory and stepped in. Baxter raised his head abruptly, smacking it against the wooden table. He cried in pain, rubbing his head as he wriggled out from underneath it. 

His eyes widened when he saw the jar overflowing with greenery and rushed towards it, pain forgotten.

“Ahhh perfect!” he cried, hurriedly taking the jar from you. As he added the leaves to his potions you pulled out a seat and collapsed into it. Your legs were trembling with exertion from the long walk and you were covered in a layer of sweat, despite the sun having gone down an hour ago.

After a few more minutes of scuffling around, Baxter relaxed and sheepishly walked over to you.

“I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” he cleared his throat. “P-p-perhaps, having someone to h-help me wouldn’t be so bad.” 

You raised your head and blinked. “Are you asking me to come help you again?”

“Well, I,” he stammered, playing with his hands. “I just - if you’re in the area, a-and you are willing to listen, I could show you a few things about my work, whatever you want to learn.” 

Learning about chemistry and potions - that might not be a bad decision. There were endless concoctions to be made. Salves, poisons, explosives, all kinds of chemical warfare could be crafted. It might be a good decision for you to learn that. Especially since you might need it…

You shook your head. That was a crazy thought. You blamed Alastor for putting it in your head. 

Loopholes.

Greatest weakness.

Overthrowing Vox.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, checking the time on your watch. Your shift was coming to an end, and Vox wanted you back at his headquarters before you signed off for the night. “I’ll let you know whenever I actually decide on something, but now I’ve got to go.” 

“Ok. I’ll see you...whenever.”

“Whenever,” You repeated, waving goodbye. You exited from the laboratory on shaky legs, hoping against hope you would be able to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to do a chapter or a scene from Alastor's point of view, and not just that small little thing I wrote at the end of chapter three. I’m glad I finally got to do that AND - holy heck! this was by far the most action Alastor’s had with the reader yet. (debatably) Nothing says romance like baring your neck for the cannibal nemesis of your boss. <3
> 
> By the way, the part where Alastor talks about his Sunday mornings is based off of his official comic! It's not out yet, but Faustisse has posted some previews on their twitter and streamed parts of the lineart on youtube. I was really inspired by that, so I tweaked it to fit into the story. Please support/ read the official comic when it does come out!
> 
> Special thanks to my friend, who talked about Alastor’s outfit with me. It makes no logical sense when you actually look at him and it was a bit of a nightmare to figure out how to write it exactly. I hate this man and his stupid cross patterned shirt with black sleeves. Thank you, you know who you are.
> 
> twitter/ tumblr for updates or just me babbling: @comfeyworks


	8. Arguement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets into an argument with the only person they could consider a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates this week! Wow.

The end of summer brought about a sudden heatwave to Pentagram city that spanned the course of two weeks. The outside air was thick with humidity and whatever wind blew by was musty and warm. It was horrible. Not many demons were out on the streets, either staying inside to avoid the heat or fanning themselves off with whatever they could find in the shade.

The last thing you wished to do was go out, but alas, you had to for work reasons. 

Your orders were simple. There was a report of a break-in an hour ago. The location: a store on Vox’s turf. You were to scour the wreck and take care of any unwelcome visitors until the maintenance crew came by to clean the mess up. 

The blood-red sun scorched your skin as you drove through town, keeping a firm hold on the steering wheel. 

For some unusual reason, you hadn't seen Vox since your conversation with him on the Sea of Sin. He was always out on a business trip or tied up with some other event whenever you dropped by the skytree. 

He hadn’t mentioned or alluded to the conversation you had with Alastor, which alleviated some of the anxiety you felt about that. 

Regardless, it was a nice break. You were able to breathe freely without the fear of constantly being watched. It gave you room to sort through your muddled thoughts whenever they strolled along. 

You pulled up to your destination, a convenience store. The front windows had been broken in and graffiti was sprayed all over the building. 

You parked the car and got out. Fractured shards were scattered on the ground. You stepped through the window frame, debris crunching against your shoes. 

The inside of the store was a mess. Shelves were knocked over, merchandise was strewn about the floors, and aisles were looted. One of the blue lights above was burnt out and flickering, giving an eerie glow to everything. 

You walked through the aisles, scanning for signs of life. When you rounded the corner of the fourth isle you froze in place. 

There was a woman, rummaging about the piles of rubble like a vulture. She plucked bags of food and small trinkets between her gloved hands, and shoved them into her pockets. As she moved she stood on the tips of her toes, reminding you of a bird about to take flight. 

You whistled to catch her attention. The short mop of cherry blond hair turned at the noise. She was scraggly looking, with dirty clothes and a freckled pale face. Her one eye on the center of her face stared at you curiously.

“Yo,” she said neutrally, giving you a lopsided grin. 

“You’re trespassing on Overlord Vox’s territory.”

Her one eye blinked. “So?”

You stood back, bewildered. What? Was this girl dense or plain stupid?

“...you need to get off.”

“Why?”

“Because this is Vox’s turf.” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Eh, I don’t really care.” 

Stupid, then. 

“Look,” You rubbed your face, taking a deep breath. “You need to go.”

“That’s too bad because I’m not.”

You clenched and unclenched your fists. “If you’re not going to leave I’m going to have to  _ make you _ leave.”

“Oh yeah?” she grinned, bouncing on her heels. “You wanna fight?”

You narrowed her eyes at her, readying a hand at your waist. 

Her hand whipped up suddenly as she threw a piece of rubble at you. You brought your arm up and deflected it. She ran up to you and jabbed her palms out, pushing against your shoulders. You grunted, staggering back from the force. Her attacks were unrelenting as she continued her assault of kicks and punches. You focused on blocking her attacks, letting her stamina run itself out. 

She was feisty. You’d give her that.

But-

You grabbed her wrist, throwing her over your shoulder and to the ground. 

Her movements were jerky and lacked the smoothness and tact that came with years of experience. While she was able to hold her own, she wasn’t as good as you. 

You overpowered her easily, sending her sprawling against the tiled floors numerous times. Each time she went down she’d always come back up, slightly more bloody with a fiery look in her eye. 

You grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the wall. Blood erupted from her nose, gushing down her front. She slumped to the floor, groaning. You nudged her side with her foot, rolling her over on her side. 

“Wow,” you whistled, a triumphant being pulled to your face. You knelt down to her level, grabbing a fistfull of her hair and pulling her head up. “I didn’t even  _ need  _ to use a weapon.” 

Maybe you were being a bit cruel, but it was her own fault for waltzing into overlord territory without thinking of the repercussions. 

Someone had to show her the world wasn’t kind. 

She spat on your face. You kneed her in the stomach, pulling back with disgust and wiping your face. 

“Fine then.” 

You put a foot on her chest, pinning her down to the floor. She growled and clawed at your shoe. You put more pressure on her chest and her protest faded into a whine. You picked up a broken piece of a pipe from the ground, twirling it in your hands. 

You leaned close to her face, staring into her swollen, pink eye. “Sorry about this.” you said sarcastically. 

You reeled your arm back and slammed the bar into the center of her face. 

You must have blacked out, because everything that happened after that was a blur. By the time you came out of your rampage, you were completely covered and blood and the woman was nearly unrecognizable.

Your hands trembled as you dropped the pipe and calmly walked away. 

\---

A few hours later, after the sun had finally gone down, you entered into the air-conditioned lobby of Porn Studios with a sigh. You took a seat on one of the couches, letting the sweat that coated your skin dry off. You’d changed earlier but your new clothes were already dirty and sweat-stained. 

What a day.

As an attendant brought you a glass of water your eyes were suddenly covered. The momentary fear that shot through you faded once you realized who it was. 

“Angel,” you said with surprise. “I didn’t know your shift ended this early.” 

Angel chuckled, removing his hands from your eyes. “Heya toots,” he patted your head. “It’s been a minute and a half.”

“It has.” 

Like Vox, you hadn’t seen or talked to Angel since the trip on the yacht. Whatever conversation or heart to heart you two were having was cut off, and certainly wouldn’t be continuing today. Not with so many cameras and eyes watching. 

Angel opened his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and frowned at it, typing furiously. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, once he had shut his phone off again. 

“It’s nuthin, just,” he ran a hand nervously through his hair. “One of my girls got pretty roughed up earlier. We were supposed to go clubbin’ tonight so I’m a bit disappointed to say the least.” he chuckled nervously. 

“Are they alright?”

“Honestly, I dunno. One of her other buddier texted me after dragging her back to her home, seems like it’s pretty bad.”

Angel wouldn’t say it but you could tell how worried he was from his body language. His hands were holding his arms tightly and his bottom lip was caught between his upper fang. The happy-go-lucky attitude he insisted on displaying was hard for you to watch, but you knew why he did it. Hell wasn’t kind to the compassionate. 

“Want me to drive you over there?” you offered. 

“Hm?” Angel snapped to attention. “Oh naw, I’m fine I really - woah hey hey, hands off!”

You dragged him out of the studio to the curb. Waiting there was your car, a shiny noir vehicle with blue tire rims. It was a gift from Vox that came out of nowhere a few weeks ago. You had been complaining about how much your legs ached after walking across the city all day or having to take the subway, and he surprisingly helped you out.

Which made you suspicious as to his motivation, but you decided to take it since your phantom pains were starting to get worse and more frequent. 

Maybe you should get them checked out.

You pressed a button on your keys and the car purred to life. Angel’s jaw hung open as he watched you climb in the driver's seat.

“Get in loser,” you smiled at him, putting on a pair of sunglasses even though the sun had already set. 

A devilish grin stretched across Angel’s face as he took the passenger’s seat. 

“Damn, you wanna take me out for dinner sometime?”

“You wish.”

You shifted gears and sped off into the night. 

\---

Angel gave you directions as you weaved through narrow city streets and honked at shitty drivers on the road. The longer you drove, the more Angel’s nervousness was apparent. Your conversations trailed off into tense silence as he bounced his leg impatiently. 

You hadn’t fully stopped outside a musty apartment complex when Angel threw open the door and stepped outside. 

“Thanks for the ride, babe. I owe you one.” He stuck his head through the open car window. 

“No problem, I’ll be waiting for you here, or somewhere else if I have to park.”

“Ya don’t hafta,” he started. “I know you got things to do.”

“I can wait.” you insisted.

He sighed, knowing better than to argue with you. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.”

He hurriedly rushed up the porch and into the building, disappearing through the door. You got out of the car and stretched your sore muscles. You groaned as your back popped loudly. 

You were getting old. Or rusty. Or both. 

You waited patiently, leaning against the front of the car and listening to the cicadas chirp. Without the sun, the temperature wasn’t so bad, and it was very calming until the door to the apartment slammed open. 

Angel stormed out of the building, shoes clacking loudly against the stone. You opened your mouth to say something when his fist connected with your cheek.

You went flying backwards, landing flat on your ass in the middle of the road. Your sunglasses fell off and skidded across the pavement. 

“ _ What the fuck?! _ ” you cupped the side of your face, cheek burning painfully. 

“What the  _ HELL  _ did you do?!” Angel roared, angrier than you’d ever seen him before.

“What do you mean?” you flexed your jaw, anger flowing through you. Nothing broken, thankfully, but you’d have a nasty bruise. 

“Today,” He hissed, fists clenched at his sides. “What did you do today.”

“...I went to work?”

“Did one of your objectives include ya going to the east part of town?”

“Yes?” you said annoyed.

“And did you or did you not see a girl bout’ yay big,” he held a hand up to his shoulder. “And beat the living shit out of her?”

You were silent for a beat. 

“What is this coming from?” you asked.

“Yes or no.” he spat.

“Yes, I did. But-” you didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Angel knocked you flat on your back, straddling your hips. He pressed his arm against your neck. 

“ _ You motherfucker! _ ” he screamed, saliva splattering your face. 

“Do what?! What are you talking about Angel?!” you gasped under the pressure he was putting on your windpipe. 

“Do I hafta spell it out for you?” he grabbed the front of your shirt.“Why the  _ hell  _ did you beat the shit out of my girl Cheri?”

Cheri? Who’s Cheri-

You suddenly remembered the woman from the store. 

Cherry blond hair. 

You felt the blood drain from your face. Oh no.

Oh fuck.

“Angel, I’m sorry I-”

“I don’t wanna hear your sorries!” he roared, fingers ripping into your shirt. 

“It was work, Angel!” you cried, exasperated. “I had to follow my orders!”

“Oh, so that makes it  _ fine  _ if it’s from the big boss, just fuck everyone else, right? Who cares so long as you do your stupid job.”

You clenched your jaw, ignoring the pain. “You’re being unreasonable. She was on overlord territory and I did what had to be done.That’s just how things are -  _ you know _ how things are. I’m sorry that your friend got hurt, but they were digging their nose into shit that didn’t belong to them.”

You had to fight and hurt others because Vox commanded you to. Why didn’t he understand that?

“So let’s say I got in yer way,” Angel’s voice shook with emotion as he spoke. “Let’s say tonight it was me that was fuckin’ around and looting daddy Vox’s store.”

“Angel-”

“-Would you or would you not have beat the shit out of me like you did with Cheri?”

“Angel-”

“Answer me!”

You dug your nails into your palm. “I would do what I needed to do.” 

Angel let go of your shirt, laughing humorously. “Jesus. I knew you were harsh but I didn’t know you lacked a heart, too.”

What little patience and remorse you had left ran out. 

“This is HELL, ANGEL,” you snapped, shoving him backwards. “You’re lucky I didn’t completely maim her with how she was acting.”

“Oh, so now you want me to be thankful?!” he snarled. “ _ Fuckin’ thankful!? _ Jesus fuckin’ christ, I never knew how low you’d drop to just to complete your job.”

The words that rushed out of you were so fast you didn’t even know what you were saying.

“ _ Yeah? Well, at least I don’t whore myself out like you! _ ”

Something shattered at your words. When you looked into Angel’s eyes you realized it was his heart. His mouth open and closed, like a fish out of water.

A wave of guilt washed over you.

“Angel, I-”

“Ouch darling, that really hurt.” Angel’s words were hollow, which only made you more concerned.

You fucked up.

“ _ Angel I- _ ”

“Forget about it,” he turned away, waving his hand dismissively. “Just go.”

“Please, I-”

“GO! GET OUT!”

His lips were curled down into a snarl, his eyes were narrowed, and his whole body was trembling. 

He was furious.

You fumbled for your keys as you scurried into the car and drove away. Your hands shook severely as you tried to keep the car steady. You drove around aimlessly, barely even registering where you were going. Blood rushed through your veins as you stepped on the gas pedal harder and harder, trying to outrun what you had done.

Vox didn’t order you to beat that woman like that. You made that decision for yourself. You could have stopped. Why didn’t you stop? Why  _ couldn’t  _ you stop? Why didn’t you quit once she was incapacitated? Were you just following orders or did you hurt her because that’s all you’ve ever done? God, you didn’t even know how badly she was injured! Were you really that far gone, that you were just as bad as the people you served?

And then you fought with Angel. And opened your stupid mouth. You didn’t mean the things you said, they just came out.

But it was too late to take them back now. 

Great! You fucked everything up, just like you always did!

When you finally came to a stop you were almost hyperventilating. 

You blinked hot tears away. No. You were not about to cry over this. Crying would do you no good other than to help you drown in your own mistakes. Mistakes that were your fault. 

Follow Vox, hurt your friends. 

Spare your friends, get hurt by Vox. 

You just couldn’t win. 

“Fuck!”

You slammed your head against the steering wheel and held it there, listening to the blare of the horn until you were nearly deaf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to add 'sugar daddy vox' to the tags of this book.
> 
> Note that Angel addresses her as 'Cheri' not 'Cheri Bomb' and Cheri's hair is shorter than it is in the pilot.  
> I've also made these fight scenes shorter and simpler. I feel like some of the last ones were too muddled and long, but I'm also worried I'm not putting enough information sometimes.  
> Writing is always a learning experience and experiment. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> tumblr/ twitter: @comfeyworks


	9. Seeking pleasures, finding pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader seeks out pleasures to distract them from the monster they fear they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains scenes of and mentions of depression, self-harm and drinking to cope. Read at your own discretion.
> 
> Reminder: you are valid. you are loved. there is always hope in the future, i promise. I feel like this may hit close to home for some readers, and so I encourage anyone who feels they are in need to reach out however they can, either online or in person. Things will get better.

It had been a cool night on Earth when you met Vox. You had started walking aimlessly around town after a rough night at home, going wherever your feet lead you. You were restless.

While your mind was a raging storm, unable to calm down, your body was indifferent, barely registering each step you took. You pressed forward further down streets and into the night, even as the wind crept through your clothes and sunk into your skin.

At one point you had stopped above a bridge. Below you ran the rapids of a river and above you hung the full moon, glowing tranquilly in the sky. 

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” he said softly, suddenly at your side. You remembered you weren’t shocked or scared to see him, just tired. You remember being really tired. 

When you hadn’t said anything he continued, “Now, I’m not in the habit of chatting up strangers, but I can’t help but notice that you seem to be in a bit of a situation.”

You looked down at the river that ran underneath you. The water was black and murky, reflecting the moon in broken puzzle pieces. In the stranger’s reflection you saw a flicker of a glowing rectangle, but when you looked back up at him, he was just a normal human. 

He was well dressed, but not overly fancy. His undershirt was un-tucked and crumpled - giving off the sense he was professional only to a degree. The moonlight caught on the side of his face, enhancing his shimmering blue eyes.

“What seems to be troubling you?” He asked, raven locks parted on one side. 

You rested your chin on your folded hands, eyes staring out past the water. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “You seem like you need someone to talk at.” 

Talking to strangers was something you’d normally be wary of, but with your current state, you could barely bring yourself to be concerned. 

You paused for a moment. 

“I hate this world,” you replied honestly. “I hate everything about this stupid reality.”

He didn’t freak and wasn’t stunned into silence like you thought he would be. He only raised his eyebrows, in slight amusement. “Now why’s that?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the systematic racism, misogyny, homophobia embedded into society or and destruction of the ecosystem that’s making me upset,” you paused, lips curling into something between a grimace and a frown. “Or maybe I’m just a sad, lazy bitch.”

In all honesty, it was a bit of both. The exhaustion that settled in your bones that made it impossible for you to move some days didn’t need to have a reason for existing. It just did. 

But obviously, external factors - like the realization that the rich sacrificed the lives of the poor for their own greed - contributed to your mental slog, too. 

“Sounds tough...do you ever wish it...wasn’t like that?”

“Huh?”

“Do you ever wish you could not be weighed down by the truth of this world?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“If you wanted,” he drummed his nails against the railing, voice purring like a well oiled engine. “I might know a way to help you.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Laugh all you want, but won’t you at least hear me out before you start dismissing me?”

You finally turned to him, crossing your arms.“Alright, sure. Hit me.”

He cleared his throat, pleased at your acceptance. “You say you hate this world, you want an escape from it. Well, I can do that for you.”

He continued despite your skepticism.

“I can take you away entirely. Providing pleasure where there is pain, offering a break from the evils of your mind whenever you need it. I can immerse you so deeply in a world that you’ll never come back to your old way of things.”

“This sounds like you’re either a hooker or a human trafficker.”

He barked out laughing. “It does, doesn’t it? But I assure you it’s nothing merger or petty like that.”

“Human trafficking doesn’t sound petty.” 

“You’d be surprised.”

A wave of discomfort rolled through you. Everything about this guy was off-putting, yet you still felt curiously towards his arrival.

“Just _what_ are you?”

He rewarded you with a grisly smile. For a brief second, it flickered into something else, but it was as gone as quickly as it had come.“Perceptive. But _that_ , you don’t need to know about _that_.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and extended it towards you.

“All you need to do is to shake my hand.”

You eyed it with suspicion.

“Come on, _make a deal with me, won’t you_? What do you have to lose?”

What _did_ you have to lose? What did you have to return to. A hollow life filled with nothing hopeful, a future you didn’t believe in yourself.

You were tired and sad. You had nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

And so, you took his hand without hesitation. 

\---

One of the fatal mistakes you made when making a deal with Vox had been wording. 

He didn’t lie when he said he’d take away the world (quite literally, dragging you to hell to work for him), but he did stretch the truth about making your world ‘painless’. Because you hadn’t specified ‘the world’ as being pain _anywhere_ you went, any pain you felt in Hell was fair game. That was how he was able to make you work for him and you could be hurt without breaking the laws of the contract. 

Did you regret it? Maybe, maybe just a bit. But there was no use moping over what was already done, especially now.

You felt horrible, both mentally and physically. 

After your fight with Angel and your drive around town, you went scrambling to the only place you knew where to run to, the only place that would make the pain go away.

You ran to him. 

“Vox,” you had sobbed, clinging to the front of his suit desperately. “Please Vox I- it-”

“Baby, _Baby_ ,” he cooed gently, placing his hands on your shoulders to still your shaking frame. “It’s alright. I understand…” 

In years prior when your thoughts had become too much for you to handle, he would come over. Just one sweep of his fingers was all it would take for apathy and pain to turn into relaxation and pleasure. 

That was one part of the deal he held fairly - freedom from your own mind and thoughts. 

It was amazing, it was _freeing_.

But it was also running away from your problems. 

Now, a few days later, you were lying on your bed in complete darkness, gaze unfocused at the ceiling. God knows how long you had remained still. It could have been a few minutes or a few hours for all you knew.

Between thoughts of deprecation and sorrow, you let your mind wander to random thoughts as well. The mind was a wonderful, horrible thing. It was full of intricate pieces and electric pulses that controlled the entire body. A memory floated into your conscious, a simple rumour you remembered hearing you were alive; Apparently the human brain was so powerful that if a person was convinced they were genuinely dying, they would really die, regardless of whether or not that person was fatally injured. 

Well, if it _was_ real, you were certain you’d be dead by now. 

_Pitying yourself more? How pathetic._ A nasty voice whispered in the back of your mind. _Just lying around being useless._

 _Stupid. Coward. Idiot. Bitch. Useless._ Other unsavoury terms that voice called you over and over. It beat your failures over your head constantly and reminded you of how worthless you were every second it could. 

It was a bitch, but it was you. And there was no escaping from yourself. Not unless you had the help of Vox.

You gritted your teeth. No. You weren’t going to call him tonight, you vowed not to. Maybe it was pettiness or out of spite, but you didn’t want to use Vox as a crutch any further. 

You wanted yourself to suffer, to really feel the pain from what you had said to Angel. 

This up and down roller coaster of emotions made you burned out. Anger, frustration, sadness, repeat. 

When that anger had nowhere else to turn to, it turned in on yourself. 

A sudden impulse rolled over you yet again, one that made you feel compelled to harm yourself. You wanted to scream. 

Instead, you dug your fingers into your hair, slowly waiting until that anger faded into sorrow again. 

“I hate myself,” you whispered to the walls of your room. 

The sadder you felt about the situation the more frustrated you became for feeling sad. It was your own damn fault that you were in this situation, and yet you _dared_ to pity yourself?

The crushing sense of worthlessness overwhelmed you again, making your body feel heavy. 

Were you becoming a monster? Were you being corrupted by the time you spent in hell?

_f you are,_ your brain hissed at you, _you deserved all of this, all of this._

You shook your head violently, curling onto your side. Why wouldn’t it just go away, why wouldn’t everything just go away?

On nights like these, your thoughts wouldn’t go away no matter what. They stuck around like a persistent fly, only buzzing away once you had suffered through its torture for days or weeks.

Until that happened, you were stuck with feeling like shit. 

You felt restless again as another round of phantom pain burned across your body, like the one you felt on Vox’s boat. You bit down on your hand and tasted blood. The pain was a good distraction from the many scattered thoughts in your mind, but after so many hours and waves of this, you just couldn’t handle it any further. 

You needed to clear your head. 

Rolling off the bed, you dragged yourself to the front door, pulling on your coat and stuffing your feet into a random pair of shoes. You weren’t really caring for how you looked. You only cared about the destination.

You slogged out the door, heading wherever your feet carried you, just like that night on Earth so long ago. 

\---

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked gruffly.

“Whatever’s the strongest,” you responded, sliding into a seat at the bar. You didn’t even know which one you were in and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was drinking more and feeling less. 

The bartender brought a bottle of a pungent amber liquid. It scalded your throat and brought tears to your eyes as you drank it. It tasted awful.

You finished your first drink. Then a second one. On your third one you felt your body heating up pleasantly and the pain in your muscles relaxing. You were suckling on your fourth one when a gruff voice jerked through your intoxicated haze. 

“Kid? The hell are you doing here?”

You turned around, disorientated as you tried to focus on the source of the sound. It was so hard with all the other voices, the clicking sound of chips, the flipping sounds of cards, the laughing, and the lights. 

Your brain put together the colors of red, grey and white, and instantly it was like a light bulb went off on top of your head. 

_“Husker!”_ you raised your glass at the cat. His nose wrinkled at your enthusiasm. “How’s it going man?”

“Shit’s the same.” He grumbled with much less energy than you.

From the end of the bar the employee slid over a bottle. Husk reached out his hand and caught it perfectly. 

“Isn’t that the truth.” Your breath made a hollow whistling sound when you blew into it. Delighted at the noise, you kept blowing on it. 

“Whaddya doing in the casino? I didn’t take you for the gambling type.” 

Ah, so that’s where you were. The one from when you first met him. Jackpot casino, Blackjack casino? You couldn’t remember the name. You shrugged. “Where else do people go to escape themselves?”

He turned to you, his usual icy expression thawed into something similar to understanding. He sighed, taking a seat beside you.

“Hey bartender, another round would ya?”

He refreshed the bottle in your hand twice. With each one you emptied, you lined them up into a row in front of you. You tapped and blew into them for fickle amusement, overjoyed at the sounds you were able to create. Husk gave you his own, either not caring or half impressed at what you were doing. But, after a long time of your constant chimes and whistles, he (and most of the other visitors to the casino) had enough. Your bottles were taken away. You were crushed at the loss, not even cheering up when Husk cracked a few jokes.

“Jesus, I can’t watch this anymore.” Husk groaned, after you had sulked for a half hour. He abruptly stood up. “Come on. Get up.”

“What, why?”

“ _Just get up, would you_? I wanna show you something.”

Barely holding back a whine and not at all holding back a pout, you followed Husk to an empty Blackjack table. You vaguely remembered him playing at it the last time you came to the casino. 

“If you’re gonna ask me to play, you should know I’m gonna suck at this,” you stated. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” He snorted, taking a seat. You followed suit. “I just want to show you something.”

Your snarky reply was held back as he pulled a deck of cards from thin air. You shut your mouth and focused intently on his hands, interest captured.

Husk shuffled the deck and held the cards out to you.

“Take two and show them to me.”

You did as he said, pulling the eight of hearts and five of clubs.

“Now place your hand over both of them.”

You laid the cards flat on one hand and pressed your other hand on top, sandwiching them. He waved his paw over yours.

“Alright now open.”

When you opened your hands, there was one card sitting there – the five of clubs.

“Look behind your ear.”

You felt your left ear, there was a card there. You grabbed it and looked at it – the eight of hearts. The edges of his mouth twitched at your eyes twinkled with shock and amazement.

“Woah, how did you do that?”

“Watch.”

He repeated the trick, this time with the king of spades and the ten of diamonds.

“ _What?_!” you stood up, as the card was behind your ear yet again. “I’m not feeling anything, that’s so cool!”

Husk preened at your compliment. He hid his pride with a cough and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Can you show me again? Please?”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll teach you how to do it.”

“But don’t magicians ‘never reveal their secrets’, or something?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me if I care.”

You laughed. “Ok. Show me.”

You flipped cards behind your hands, ears, and sleeves for hours. After that got boring, Husk showed you a dartboard where you played until you were nearly hitting the bull’s-eye every time, all the while you returned to the bar for drinks. You drank, played, laughed, and hand fun.

_You had fun._

Later on, you would have realized how weird it was to be getting along with Husk. The last time you two saw each other was at Wonderland, where you both beat the stuffing out of each other. 

But, it surprisingly didn’t make anything awkward. It was an unspoken event the two of you shrugged off of your own accord, and that was good enough for you. 

“Y’know, you’re a real tank when it comes to the booze,” Husk commented as you drank your unknown shot. “I’m surprised you’re not completely plastered yet.”

Honesty it surprised you as well. You supposed either your half-human form had a high tolerance for alcohol, or the booze in hell was _really_ watered down.

“I’ll be regretting this in the morning, when I get a killer hangover,” you rested your elbows against the bar and took another sloppy drink. “What bout’ you? Don’t you get hungover with how much you drink?”

“The trick is to always stay drunk. That way you’re never sober, and never hungover either.”

“That’s a good idea. I might try it for myself.” 

You were already in for a world of pain when the morning came. So if you were gonna go in, you might as well go in all the way. 

Eventually, the world of the casino was starting to bore you. The drinks were the same, the music was the same, the old creeps drooling over-exposed skin were the same. You felt the inklings of boredom and tiredness creeping towards you.

What was that thing people did for fun when they got bored? The one where they’d go from bar to bar and drink until they blacked out? Bar- Skipping? No, jumping? That wasn’t it either.

“I think it was something a frog does,” you mumbled to yourself, pacing the bar. Husk watched you like you were crazy. You probably were.

Leap? Bound? Croak? 

Oh!  
You slapped your fist into your palm.

Bar-hopping!

Yeah, you wanted to do that! 

“Kid? The fuck are you doing?” Husk’s voice called from behind you. Were you walking away? You guessed you were. 

“Hopscotch,” you blurted back, clumsily barreling through the crowd to the entrance. 

“Shit, kid, hang on-” 

You pulled open the door and stumbled out into the cold night air. The temperature change shocked you for a second, enough time for your bar-buddy to catch up to you.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” 

You huffed at him, like it should have been obvious. “Hopping. Like a frog.”

“Uh?”

“Bar-hopping.”

Husk groaned and rubbed his face. “Aw Jesus, great.”

“Jesus what?”

“I didn’t want to go anywhere tonight.”

“Why are you so bitchy? I didn’t ask you to come.”

“Yeah, but I have to-” he said, annoyed.

“No you don’t-” you replied, equally annoyed.

“ _Look_ if I let you go, you’re gonna get killed or kidnapped or both.” He said with finality, throwing his hands up in the air. “So yeah, I’m going with you.”

“Fine, fine,” you said, poking his nose. He looked like he wanted to bite your fingers off. “Does this mean we’re pals?”  
“No.”

You smiled smugly. “It totally does.” 

“No it _doesn’t_.”

“Does!”

“ _Doesn’t_!”

You giggled, (God, you were at the point where you were so drunk you were _giggling_ ) “Whatever you say, old man.”

Before he could answer, or scratch your eyes out, or both, you grabbed his paw and dragged him across the street. 

\---

One, two, three, _fuck it_. You lost count of how many different clubs, bars and casinos the two of you entered and exit. Each location always had something new being offered and you _obviously_ had to try them all.

Rest in peace, your poor, poor kidney.

Across the room Husk tore himself from a group of demons after they offered explicit propositions to him. You were surprised he hadn’t castrated them on the spot. You tried to hide a smile and failed as he stopped over to your table, flustered and glowering with drinks in his hand. 

“Why did we come here,” Husk hissed to you, slamming down a glass forcefully in front of you.

“What do you mean?” you said innocently, hiding your smirk into your drink.

“You _know_ what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“ _A strip club. Why the fuck are we in a strip club?”_

 _“_ A gay strip club,” you corrected. “And because from what you’ve told me, you need some fun in your life.”

Husk practically combusted at your words. “ _No the fuck I don’t.”_

A high-pitched voice cut through the air before you could say anything. One of the performers bid an extra special farewell to Husk, calling him a _very_ blush-worthy name before exiting backstage.

“…”

“Did he just-”

“Call you daddy? Yes.”

Husk banged his head against the table.

“What’s wrong, papa – _ahahaha_!” you burst out laughing, burying your head into your elbow and banging your fist against the table. When you finally leaned calmed down and wiped the tears from your eyes, Husk was half finished his drink, glaring at you. You simply smiled, and clinked your glass against his.

“Cheers, you’re now a father.”

“ _I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you_ -”

“Weeeellll lookie here!”

Through your inebriated brain, a fuzzy blob wavered into view. First a hand, then an arm, a face, and eyes. 

You almost dropped your current glass. Shitfaced, half-naked, and flushed stood Angel Dust.

“A fuckin’ bitch.” he snarled, swaying in place.

Fuck. He was the last person you wanted to see.

All joy and happiness left you instantly. “Leave me alone, Angel.”

“Ohoho - no no _no_. We can’t have that. Come on,” He approached you, stopped last second by Husk’s arm.  
“Hey buddy,” a warning growl rumbled through his throat. “ _Back off._ ”

Angel only stood back, a carefree laugh falling from his mouth . He trailed his eyes up and down Husk’s body, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“Ooh. Want me all to yourself, handsome?”

He pressed a hand to Husk’s chest and Husk cringed backwards.

Welp. There goes your one fabric-thin line of defence. 

Angel shrugged the rejection off and took a seat beside you. 

“But back to business. _How are you?_ Doing good, now that it’s just you and Voxy, huh?”  
“Angel, please stop.”

“ _Stop_. Weren’t ya the one that said you’d ‘do what you have to’?”

“Angel-”

“All these years we’ve spent talkin’, it didn’t mean anything to you?”

“That’s not true, Angel I-”

“Don’t kid yourself. You made yourself perfectly clear the other night.” He ground his teeth together, eyebrows knitted together. You really upset him.

“Angel. I’m sorry for what I said,” you forced your fuzzy, drunk mind to focus. “It hurt you _– I hurt you._ I didn’t mean it, and I’m not trying to excuse what I did or said, but I did it anyways and it was wrong, I’m sorry.”

He clenched his hands into fists, digging his second set of fingers into his thigh-highs. “Your pretendin’ to care now, after you just said you’d _kill me_ if I got in the way of Vox, after you called me a whore?!”

“ _I’m sorry_ , I-”

“Say what you want. But I’m not convinced for a second you’re different from any of them.” he snarled. “All I want to know is _why_. Why are you so fuckin’ loyal to him?”

You wanted to say a million things. That you had no choice, that you were bound by the rules of a deal, that you wanted to break free but you needed _time_. Time that you were running out of.

Instead, you said nothing, left gaping like a fish out of water for words that wouldn’t come.

“Is it the cash?” he continued with his rant. “Wait, nah. you don’t get paid. Oh I know!”

“Angel,” you whispered hoarsely

“It’s his dick init? Hah! So do you actually do anything or do you just sit there and take it?”

Your body flushed with hot shame. You were going to throw up or do something worse if this continued. “Stop it, Angel.” 

“Does it have a vibrate function? Is that it?”

“ _Please stop this Angel._ ” You begged, hands shaking. 

“Hey! Whaddya call a bitch who can’t fuck? This fucker right here!”

“ _Angel_.”

“What?” he all but spat, smiling maliciously. “Am I hurting your _fewlings_?”

Just like with Cheri, something snapped. A lever flipped, a button was pressed, a dam broke, you snapped.

You didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t want to fight him. You just wanted him to stop talking, stop reminding you of your mistakes.

Your hand was suddenly a fist and you slugged him across the face

He flew back across the table and you pursued him. Glasses broke and chairs were overturned as you both fell to the ground. His head cracked against the floor as you straddled his hips. You punched him again. He grabbed your hair and pulled, forcing you off of him.

The next few minutes were a blur. You and Angel both brawled on the ground, punching, kicking, and scratching at each other like wild animals. The residents of the club hooted and jeered around you, but all you could hear was white noise. Blood was coating your fists and your face, but you couldn’t tell where or what they came from.

You snapped back into reality when someone looped their arms under your armpits and jerked you backwards. You violently resisted the arms around you.

“Calm down, kid,” Husk grunted, tightening his grip on you. “Stop fuckin’ moving.”

You were still aggressive even as you were dragged out of the club and into the cold air. Husk let you go suddenly and you fell to the ground.

“What the fuck was that about?” You slurred, wobbling on your feet. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Yea, and you’re an azz - ash - _asshole_.” Was it from the blood loss or the alcohol that you were so dizzy now? Probably both.

“I just saved you from a losing fight.”

“Saved me?” You laughed, jabbing your finger towards Husk. “Lemme get one thing straight, Don’t fuckin’ act all high and mighty for doing one good deed. I didn't and don’t need your help.”

Husk ignored your hand. “Do you even know the way home?”

“Course’ I do!” you threw your hand out and pointed. “That way!”

Husk raised his eyebrows. You were pointing at a brick wall.  
“Right, ok,” He sighed, bending out of sight.

“What are you-” you squealed as you were suddenly thrown over his shoulder. “Hey! Put me down!”

“No.”

You thrashed in his hold, beating your arms weekly against his back. 

“Lemme go!”

“Kid, just stop would you!”

“No! I’m not gonna-” the world suddenly shifted and your stomach threatened to empty itself. “Hhshhh ohh fuck.”

Husk murmured something close to ‘finally’ as he kept walking. You stared at his tail as it flickered back and forth as you tried not to hurl onto his back.

You fought with Angel. Again. God. You viciously rubbed your face, smearing blood across it. You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have done _any_ of that. By trying to fix things you only made them a thousand times worse. Like you always did.

Great.

Plus, there was Husk to be concerned about. You should have been extremely suspicious. Why did he help you tonight? Why was he _continuing_ to help you? Why did he know where you lived?

More questions. More problems. Too much for you to handle when you were punch drunk and being carried like a child.

Husk stopped walking. You recognized the ashy grey steps of your apartment building.

“Do you think you can stand?”

You slid off his back and immediately fell to the ground. 

“Geez, alright.” He put your arm around his neck and half-lead half-dragged you up the stairs. 

When you were outside your front door you urgently pushed Husk away as another strong nausea wave rolled over you. Instinctively, he tried to hold onto you, but you insisted and tore yourself away. Just in time, too.

You fell to your hands and knees and threw up on the floor. 

“Aw fuckin’ hell kid!” 

What your stomach ejected was foul and black, most likely a mix of the colourful drink’s you’d consumed that evening. But there was also another smell to it. Something sickly sweet that stuck in your nose and made you light headed.

Ink? Acid? _Oil?_ Something like that.

Sweating with numerous fluids coating your tongue, you stood up on shaky feet. Husk supported you (though from a careful distance) and busted your door open. Thoughts of the hinges being damaged were saved for a later time.

“Oof,” you grunted, nearly tripping over your feet as Husk stopped suddenly. You were about to question what was up when you noticed how tense he was. Your eyes followed his and you saw the source of his discomfort.

Vox was sitting on your couch, one leg crossed over the other. 

“Good evening, Husk.” he said. “I see you’ve brought home something that is mine. Thank you.”

Husk was taken back, eyes wide. He regained his gruff, indifferent composure. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

“My assistant wasn’t any trouble for you tonight, were they?”

“They were the usual pain in the ass.”

Vox slapped his knee and laughed. Husk scowled.

“Well, good luck with them, they’re your problem now.”

He turned to leave, only to be blocked by an invisible force field. 

“No no, that won’t be acceptable,” Vox stood up from the couch, crossing over the threshold. “I must thank you for your kind actions today.”

With each step he took, the more the fur on Husk’s back bristled. Vox laid a hand on Husk’s shoulder, ignoring the growl it pulled from him.

“How about you and I have a little chat, hm?” Vox grinned maliciously, the room buzzing with electricity and power.

Husk knocked the hand from his shoulder and conceded. “Alright, alright, fine.”

Vox nodded, pleased. He turned to you, quickly scanning you up and down before turning back to Husk. “One moment, please.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Vox’s screen jittered slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the back of your collar and hoisted you up, like a mother cat carrying one of its kittens. 

You floated, weightless, until the plush fabric of your bed rushed up underneath you. The blankets were tangled in a messy heap, and you flopped into them, ignoring how you were staining them.

“Stay here, alright?” 

Vox didn’t wait for any sort of response before he closed the door, locking you in your own room. 

Time passed.

If you had the energy to get up and try to open the door you might have, but a part of you was convinced that even if you did, the door would be locked. 

With nothing else to do, you waited, hearing the sounds of muffled conversation in the distance. You couldn’t make anything out. 

By the time Vox returned you were half-asleep. There was pressure under your knees and back, and then you were being lifted into the air. 

Vox, Vox’s shirt. You pressed your head against the cool material and closed your eyes again. 

“The cat – Husk. Husk’s is- Husk’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“I-I didn’t. Get a chance- get the chance to say-” you tried, tongue tripping over itself. 

“Shh,” he hushed you. “I know, I know.” 

You hummed, pleased that he understood you or at least tried to understand you. 

The hum of the engine, tires against the gravel. You were in a car? A car. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, looking around. Red and pink and red and pink. Seats, a -what were those things called again? With ice and scoops. A fridge? A cooler? - lining the sides of the vehicle. Jeez, you were really losing it.

“Shh don’t worry, getting you fixed up.” he hushed you yet again. You wanted to argue that you were an adult, and that you could take care of yourself, but your tongue failed you as a hand ran through your scalp. You melted into the touch, practically purring with how good Vox’s hand felt against your head.

Fixed up...fixed up. Probably because you threw up. Yeah. Yeah, that made sense. Fixed up...

The car jerked forwards and backwards, stopping and starting in a regular pattern until one time it jerked for a final time, and Vox got out, still holding you in his arms. 

It was cold again, but only for a brief second before the temperature returned to normal. Where was it that he was taking you? You don’t remember your apartment being this big. Oh right, you weren’t in your apartment anymore, you had gotten into the car.

Maybe he was taking you to a nice bathhouse...that’d be nice. Somewhere with lots of steam and rose petals.

There was an electronic ring once, and then a rumbling, then the sensation of going down. Huh. Must be some kind of new bathhouse to have an elevator-

Your eyes shot open.

Oh no.

No. 

Nononononono.

“Wait, wait, Vox.” you tried, looking around wildly. You recognized the electronic koi fish pond underneath you, recognized the lights that surrounded you.

You were in the elevator of Vox’s skytree.

The doors beeped and opened, revealing a familiar dark hallway that haunted your dreams.

You were in the basement.

“Shh,” Vox shushed. His voice was different now. It sounded off. Sour. “It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright.” 

You struggled against him, hands sliding uselessly against his shirt.

This wasn’t happening.

What had you done wrong? You had done everything he told you to do!

Was it not calling for him? Was it getting into a fight? Was it getting drunk? _What was it!?_ Your mind searched wildly for an answer when you remembered with horror-

Husk.

Husk had a talk with Vox.  
Husk, Alastor, your conversation with Alastor in the garden. 

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

Did Vox know – oh who were you kidding, even if he didn’t know, he must have had a suspicion since you returned. Is that why he got you those nice gifts? Was it to lull you into a sense of calm before ripping the floor out from underneath you? Dammit, Goddammit, Fuck, shit-

You were panicking. And cursing.

You cursed. You must have been saying it partly out loud as well, because Vox was saying something again. But his voice was muffled, distant. There was a storm, no, _a hurricane_ inside of you, drowning out everything with the howling of the wind.

You kicked and clawed and struggled, knowing that everything would be over once he locked you in here.

Your hopes, your plans, _everything_.

The last thing you remembered was his voice, still insisting everything was ok, before something dug into your arm and you passed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to me to write. From it's content and just the way it was written... it was a lot. I always struggle with feeling like my writing is 'good enough', but this week was the hardest so far. Still, I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Whether or not you wanna believe Vox fucked/ fucks the reader as part of their deal is up to you. lol. But please know that anything sexual between the two of them would have been 100% consensual. Vox wouldn't have done anything unless the reader specifically asked and wanted to do it. Just want to make that clear. 
> 
> I was thinking of writing a scene between him and the reader at one point but there wasn't any real place to put it, and I didn't think it was necessary. We keep the Mature rating for now, boys.  
> ...Until Alastor says otherwise. 
> 
> I also want to explain myself a bit.  
> At the beginning of the pilot we see that Angel isn't affected by being called nasty words such as 'slut'. But this fic takes place before the events of the pilot. And I think regardless of how tough of skin Angel has, hearing words like that come from someone he thought was his friend would hurt. Hence why he was/ is so shaken up about what the reader said to him.
> 
> ...and once again, the reader is put into the basement. You're all probably wanting to wring my neck with the suspense but I promise - you'll know *very* soon. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> twitter/ tumblr: @comfeyworks


	10. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader plays the last card in their hand and ties up loose ends while they still can.

Beating. 

Pulsing. 

Breathing.

Alive.

When you woke on your bed, you realized just how wrong things were. 

Turning.

Clicking.

Choking.

Inhuman. 

You were past the point of return ever since you crossed the threshold of that dark room, deep below the surface of the underworld. And now? Now you were reaching the danger zone. Heading straight for the twilight realm. The more you changed, the more your thoughts became muddled, like your brain was being baked in a sauna. The phantom flames of pain that were once sparks had grown into burning embers pushed deep into your bones.

The time you had left was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It piled up at your feet until it eventually reached your throat, threatening to suffocate you. 

You knew the end would eventually claim you, drag you down underneath the sand and bury you in darkness. 

But if the ship you were on was sinking, you were going to abandon it and drown on your own terms. 

\---

“Is this seat taken?”

Alastor blinked numerous times so that he knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. They weren’t.

“No,” he extended an arm out to the empty chair across from him. “Please, take a seat.” 

You nodded and sat down. 

“Coffee?” he asked. 

“Please.”

As his shadow manifested a new cup and filled it he watched you intensely. He had been enjoying another Sunday morning at the park. This time the leaves had turned colour and fallen with the coming of autumn, leaving behind an overcast sky. The garden had lost its usual lustre, but that hadn’t stopped you from seeking out his little spot on the patio. He had barely recognized the drained, lifeless figure that was sitting in front of him right now, circles under your eyes darker than the wilted rose bushes. 

His shadow slid the cup over towards you. You took it with two hands, mumbling a ‘thanks’. 

“Might I ask what business you have with me today?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Alastor’s eyes were drawn to your hands as they trembled, holding the ceramic cup. “Just was craving some coffee. And to talk, if you’ll have me.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Despite his open invitation, you didn’t say anything. Frankly, Alastor felt a bit offended, but more so confused. You had just stated you wanted to talk, so why the sudden silence? Was it nerves? That didn’t seem right. The two of you had conversed quite easily before. There was no reason for you to be shy now. He decided to take the initiative and get the conversation rolling.

“I heard how you got a bit zozzled the other day.”

“Did you?” your nose wrinkled. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Husker spared me most of the unnecessary details. Good for you, by the way, getting him out like that, he needs it.”

“Did you send Husk to watch over me?” you questioned directly. Finally, you were getting somewhere.

His lip quirked. “Possibly.” 

A frown. Narrowed eyes. Plus another emotion...sadness? Disappointment? “You shouldn’t have. Vox talked to him. I don’t know what about.”

“You’re confiding with me about his secrets, then?”

“I guess so.”

He narrowed his eyes. That wishy-washy attitude didn’t suit you at all. Not  _ Vox’s assistant _ , the one who always met his threats with bold determination time and time again. Not the same assistant who just a month ago, was baring their neck to him in challenge.

What in the nine circles had happened since your last meeting?

“We’re secret sharers, then.” Not acquaintances, not partners, and  _ definitely not friends _ . Yes, secret sharers seemed like a fitting name. 

“If we are, indulge me in one of yours,” you continued, almost in a daze. “You’re an overlord. You work with soul contracts. So tell me,” your eyes met his for the first time in the conversation. “Do you feel bad for the people who sell their souls to you?”

“Not one bit,” he said honestly. “They made their choice. Hungry for power, riches, pleasures. Whatever it is, I give them what they want and I collect my payment.”

“Then there’s no way you’d ever release one of them out of the  _ kindness of your heart? _ ”

He felt a satisfied smile stretch to his face. Perfect. Things were heading into the direction he wanted them to. “No, I wouldn’t. Not unless I felt a strong need to.”

“Have you, ever?”

“No.”

You slumped back into your chair, leaning your head back over the end of it. An exhale rattled through your ribcage. You mumbled something incohesive.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

You leaned forwards suddenly, the front legs of the chair knocked against the ground. “What if someone killed him.?” You blurted.

His ears perked up at the K-word. “Whom?”

“Vox.”

A primal part of him growled and purred at the same time. 

“My, my, assistant,” he chuckled. “Getting bold now, aren’t we?” Desperate was more like it. And that was good. Desperate people were the ones who knocked on his doorstep, clutching at the last straws they had in their hands.

“Well, what would happen to the souls he owned?”

You weren’t even  _ trying  _ to be subtle anymore. Alastor felt disappointed. Your interactions weren’t entertaining when there wasn’t a mental battle of wits. But fine, he’d still play along.

“The one who killed him, assuming it was a demon, would receive all of his power and souls he’d collected up to that point,” he paused. “Why, are you thinking of stabbing him in the dead of night?”

You ruffled your hair with your hand - a gloved hand. He hadn’t seen you wearing gloves before. He supposed it wasn’t weird, he wore them as well. It just caught his eye. “No. I’m not stupid, I know I don’t stand a chance against him. And getting someone else to kill him would be out of the question. My soul would just go to that demon if he was killed.”

Alastor’s shadow purred silently inside of him. He agreed.  _ They were smart. _

“What about during an extermination?” he threw out as a challenge. “An exterminator would be more than capable of killing him.” 

“Come on, don’t kid me,” you sighed, annoyed. “Vox and the rest of the other V’s just barricade themselves up in one of their headquarters. They even rotate the location every year, so it’s impossible to tell exactly where they’ll be until the extermination starts. Trying to stop them or break into their bunker would be impossible.”

So that’s where  _ he _ goes during that time of the year. Alastor thought as much, but he never knew for certain.

“Then it seems like he’s not going to die anytime soon,” he said.

“Unfortunately.”

He laughed again, knocking his cup against yours in cheers. 

The two of you slowly finished your cups, untalking. Alastor filled the silence with a slow jazz song. Fitting for such a gloomy day. When thunder rumbled from a distance he decided it was time to leave.

“I hate to leave so suddenly,” he stood up and cracked his back. The sound was disgustingly wet. “But I’m a very busy man, and I have other things to attend to-”

“I want to make a deal.” you interrupted. Your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence. 

Alastor froze in place. The single sentence sent a rush through his veins. His radio crackled to life and he slowly sat down to face you again. 

“Do go on.”

You continued without further hesitation, hands clenched on the table. “I need to get out. Out of the city and away where Vox can’t reach me.”

Silence.

“...you want me to transport you out of the city?”

You nodded. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” it was just weird. People turned to him for power, to have someone killed, to torture an enemy, to damn a person to Hell for eternity-

Not to be a  _ chaperone _ .

“You’re certain?” he asked. Something he never usually did, but the request was so out of left field he was left a bit stunned. 

“Mr. Radio Demon,” you said professionally. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

Mr. Radio Demon? “Please, call me Alastor.”

You shook your head. Alastor’s ear twitched in annoyance. The fear-mongering nickname was something he liked, but your adamant refusal to call him by his name was an annoyance. Oh well, It wasn’t important right now. 

He cleared his throat. “You want out of the city, I can do that for you. But what are  _ you  _ offering me? Clearly not your soul.”

“No. But you want something with Vox,” you flashed your forearm, revealing your bonding mark. “And this is the key to anywhere within his buildings. I’ll get you in there, but that’s it. Once.” Then you added, after a moment. “The mark needs to stay on my arm and my arm attached to my body. After you get what you want, take me to the first circle – in one piece - and leave me there. That’s when the deal ends. We go our separate ways, that’s it.”

Alastor hid the puckering of his lips with a hum. So you had figured out that he was planning on ripping your arm off and using that to get in. No matter. There were still plenty of other ways he could stretch the terms of the deal. 

“Agreed?” you asked. 

“I agree to your terms,” he extended his hand. It Iit up in a cloud of green flame and glowed eerily. “ _ We have a deal, then? _ ”

You looked at his palm, and without blinking, pushed it away, unphased. “Put your hand down. I’m not making a deal with you today. ”

What.

Alastor closed his hand into a fist, feeling anger brew inside of him. Did you think you could waste his time like this? “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, dear.”

“I just wanted to give you a heads up, ” you stood up from your seat, with a wince. “I still...I still have something I need to do. We’ll make the deal next month. I know you never go to  _ that event _ but now you should have an incentive to, correct?”

Alastor didn’t like being pushed around. But your words peaked his interest.

“An incentive to go to?” he poked, knowing full well what your answer would be. You looked at him, catching the satisfied smirk he had. He was just playing with you now, urging you to say it. 

As you spoke, the first drop of rain landed on your shoulder. 

“The convention of overlords.” 

\---

The girl named Cheri heard a knock on her door one rainy night. She groaned and dragged herself off the couch, letting the ice pack resting on her forehead slip off and land in a puddle on the floor. Even though most of her major wounds had healed from her fight at that store a while back, she still felt like shit. Her muscles screamed whenever she moved and her healing skin was still tender in areas. 

Nothing she couldn’t handle, but it was just a pain in the ass. 

She opened the door, expecting to see the disgruntled face of her landlord, maybe even Angel soaked and shivering from the cold, but she was met with no one. 

“Fuckin’ ding dong ditchers,” she muttered under her breath. Their persistence even when it was pouring outside. She was about to close the door when she noticed the tip of an envelope sticking out of her mailbox. Weird. The only mail she ever received were scammy advertisements and the bills at the end of each month. 

She took the envelope inside and flopped back down on the couch. She flipped open her pocketknife and tore a gash across the top of it. Inside was a single piece of paper.

  
  


_ Dear Cheri, _

_ You don’t know me. But I know your friend, Angel Dust. He told me how you were in bad shape. I hope you’re doing better. _

_ I was the one you fought with at the store on Redbrick and Knifebow avenue, the one sent by Overlord Vox. _

_ For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I really am. I know that might not mean much in a place like Hell, but I wanted to apologize to you anyways.  _

_ I’m not good with apologies. (I don’t think anyone in Hell is) so instead, I’m offering you something that’s up your alley.  _

_ Have you heard of an Overlord named Velvet? She's very popular online.  _

_ I’m sure you are already aware of Valentino, the Overlord who Angel works for. One of Valentino’s partners is a woman who goes by the name Velvet.  _

_ She has an apprentice named Baxter. He’s the one who’s in charge of leading a section of her business - creating poisons, elixirs, and other chemical brews to sell to her patrons. Some of those brews include bombs, explosives, and ammunition.  _

_ You like to fight, don’t you? I’d imagine getting your hands on powerful weapons like that would suit your tastes.  _

_ Baxter owes me a favour. Tell him the one who got him Bay Leaves sent you and he’ll teach you anything you want to know. If you’re patient enough. I’ve written the address on the back of this letter.  _

_ Hell is not a nice place. The reason why I’m telling you about this is because I believe you’ve fallen recently. You’ll need all of the protection you can get, but whether you go or not is still up to you.  _

_ I hope this somehow helps atone for what I’ve done.  _

  
  


The writing was so scratchy and messy, Cheri was sure it had to have been written with an unsteady hand. The further down she read, the worse it became. 

_ Whatever you decide to do -  _ _ DO NOT MAKE A DEAL WITH ANYONE _ _. Don’t make a deal, don’t sign anything, and  _ _ don’t fuck with Overlords _ _. Velvet you should be fine around, but if you see Vox or Valentino - RUN.  _

_ I've taken up a lot of your time. But I have one last request.  _

_ Take care of Angel for me. Please. I know he cares about you. He was willing to throw hands at me when you were hurt, and he doesn’t do that for anyone.  _

_ Be a better friend to him than I was, ok? _

_ I won’t be around much longer to look out for him. I’m selfishly entrusting that task to you.  _

_ Survive. Take care of each other. Kiss Fat Nuggets for me when you can.  _

_ Goodbye.  _   
  


She turned the letter over in her hand. It wasn’t signed.

She placed it back on the coffee table and laid down on the couch. “Velvet, huh,” she said to herself, watching streaks of red roll down her window. “Maybe. Sounds cool enough.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, Cheri became Cheri Bomb. I know bombs and stuff are probably part of her natural power but since I knew Baxter was going to be a part of the story as well I thought 'what the hell'. I like writing things like that, characters interacting in ways they probably wouldn't in canon. 
> 
> Just three more chapters before this arc of this story is finished! It's going to be wild so hang on. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter/ tumblr: @comfeyworks  
> Feel free to ask/ message me anything, I love talking to you guys


	11. The Convention of Overlords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the ninth circle, Treachery. Please proceed inside and help yourself to the refreshments. The meeting will begin shortly.

Hell was divided into 9 circles. Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger, Envy, Pride, Violence, and Treachery. In the whimsical world of the humans, their books depicted Hell as a burning land of flames and lava, an upside-down triangle with each circle descending lower and lower into the underworld. Those records made the Hell-born cackle with laughter. Pools of magma? Being burned eternally? Well maybe, only if you sought out that kind of thing in the Lust circle. 

No, Hell wasn’t ‘Eternal torture in a boiling sea of lava’ more as it was ‘Infuriating inconveniences in a lawless land’.

And the circles of Hell weren’t stacked on top of each other like blocks of lego, either. To travel from one circle to the next, all one had to do was travel in a straight line. But that didn’t mean Hell was spherical like the Earth. It existed in a different dimension, one where the laws of physics and space didn’t apply in the same way as they did in the overworld.

Hell was endless, but demons were limited to where they could go. It was like the universe - stretching endlessly in all directions but only having a minuscule space where life could exist. 

Each circle was dangerous for its own reasons, but generally, the lower a circle was, the more dangerous they were too. As such, the lower a circle, the more dangerous and difficult it was to reach. 

The ninth circle was unique in that outsiders could only enter by invitation. But even then, it wasn’t an easy trip. The journey was one that tested a demon’s mental and physical capabilities. The deeper you traversed into the final circle, the heavier the air became. Your ears popped, pressure built on your chest, your eyes felt like there were going to come out of their sockets. The weight of every damned soul that lived and died in Hell was felt the strongest in Treachery. It rested heavy on your soul, threatening to burst you apart. 

It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but once every year, you were forced to make this journey. 

After travelling through the unforgiving deserts of the 8th circle, the landscape shifted suddenly to frosty forests. Tall trees scrapped against the sky above, branches harbouring no leaves and each step crunching snow under your foot.

The forest broke to reveal the final obstacle - miles and miles of enormous, rocky, snow-capped mountains.

You travelled through frigid caves, across lakes of ice, and slid down rocky slopes. Your hands and feet grew numb with the cold and after a certain point, your teeth wouldn’t stop clattering. You weren’t alone on the journey. Many others were traversing the cold weather, even making the most of it. Vox, Velvet and Valentino were in front of you, chatting the entire way there. Velvet and Val had dressed for the cold (her in warm earmuffs and him in a thick fur coat) but Vox, ever the idiot, was wearing only a woollen sweater. 

You weren’t far behind his stupidity, with your thin jacket, one made for the end of the year weather in Pentagram city. The chill easily permeated the fabric and into your bones.

Still, you pressed on, careful to not fall too far behind Vox, who was short-circuiting every once and a while as the temperature continued to drop. 

Finally, _finally_ , you reached the center of the circle, deep within the core of a chain of mountains. 

There was a large gaping hole that plunged straight into the ground. Along the sides were pathways that coiled down in a corkscrew pattern. From the bottom glowed a hazy light that illuminated the way and along the sides were crystals embedded into the stone. They pulsed and glowed each time there was movement in front of them. The raw power from them made your own heart palpitate. You shivered, even though it was warmer near the core.

You followed the tunnel down and down and down, further and further into the ground. All around you other demons were following in your footsteps and leading the way in front of you. Everyone was of different sizes, colours, shapes and textures, but they all had one thing in common.

Each of them was powerful enough to step foot in this realm.

Down, down, down, further into the depths of the ground you travelled, filling down into the funnel like ants. 

The path levelled with the ground again, and through a tunnel there stood a breathtaking sight; A massive underground canyon that looped and bent as far as your eye could see. Stalagmites and stalactites hung from the ceiling and poked up from the floor, glowing with the light from the crystals sprinkled through the rock. 

And of course, directly in front of you was a bridge leading to - a castle? Forretress? None of those words did justice to the sculpted masterpiece in front of you. Perched high above the ground level, it was beautifully carved and polished with elegant details. In contrast to the sparkling stones around it, it was made of black stone, highlighted with gold and red trim. 

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Majestic. Intimidating. _Powerful_. 

The perfect place for the elite of Hell to meet every year.

Hell’s system of power was complicated and confusing. In the most basic terms, it was like an empire, nine circles ruled by different Overlords and demons, but all under the same ruler. 

Unlike heaven (maybe, as well, because you didn’t know jack about how heaven worked ) Hell wasn’t ruled by one god, or any god. It was ruled by the king, Lucifer Morningstar Magne. 

...Or at least that was the theory. There were rumours that there were forces greater than Lucifer who were in control of Hell. No one knew for certain, and you doubted you'd ever know, either. 

Regardless, Lucifer was one of the 7 Archdemons. They were leaders who acted as overseers for their respective sins/ circles. (Why they had 9 circles but only 7 Archdemons, you didn’t know, maybe the other two were killed or they just got lazy with hiring people). Lucifer represented Pride, and as such was also in control of the Pride circle. The circle in which Pentagram City was located. 

So why was Lucifer head honcho out of the 7 Archdemons? Simple, he had _Angel blood_ coursing through his veins, giving him a genetic advantage over his peers. 

Underneath Archdemons were their knights and vassals, who assisted and worked under their Archdemon. They were like stronger versions of Overlords. 

Below both knights and advisors were Overlords. People like Vox, Alastor, Velvet, and Valentino who were extremely powerful beings, much more powerful than the average demon. Knowing how strong _they_ were, you couldn’t imagine how powerful an advisor or an Archdemon was. 

Underneath Overlords were the mob bosses, gang leaders, and other relatively powerful sinners. But in the eyes of the ultra-powerful, they were mere ants. 

Most demons high up on the monarch detested each other. They went about their business, not caring for what their rivals are doing unless it benefited or harmed them. Nonetheless, each year they tolerated each other's presences for a single gathering: The Convention of Overlords.

It was an annual ball of sorts that took place at the end of each year, right before the extermination. Overlords and their lackeys had the chance to meet, talk, make connections, deals, arrangements, and all sorts of other things in the circle of treachery. The 7 Archdemons never showed for the gathering. (Except sometimes Lucifer, who you think does it because after millennium ruling Hell, he’s starved for entertainment. Or maybe because he’s obligated as king.) 

By now your feet were starting to kill you. You crossed the bridge leading to the castle and entered through its gates into the entrance hall. You followed after your three companions, dropped your coat off to a servant, and entered into the main hall. 

It was gorgeous on the inside. The ceilings were tall, held up by pillars of sculpted stone. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the room, illuminating everything in a warm, golden light.

At the front of the room were rows upon rows of tables with food and drink. On the opposite end was an orchestra that played splendid music. There was a large polished square in the middle reserved for dances and along the edges was a sea of round tables. 

It was pretty, too pretty for the vile creatures that occupied it. 

You made your way over to the tables marked for the 3V’s. The Overlords had reserved tables for themselves while their servants and company sat at different tables adjacent to them. 

“No matter what I do, I always get sand stuck in my shoes from Violence,” Vox grumbled, shaking sand out onto the floor. 

“At least they seem to have good grub this year. Last year was disgusting.” Valentino said, lighting up a cigarette and taking a large inhale. The red smoke curled animatedly in the air. 

“Don’t remind me. Remember the spaghetti jello they had last year, to bring back the 70’s or something?”

“Hey, that was actually good.”

Vox let out a buzz of disgust. “No, the fuck it wasn’t! You’re just saying that because it’s from your time, Val.”

Velvet rolled her eyes, busy tapping away on her phone. “You two argue like an old married couple. Whatevs. Once you love birds have had enough, I’ll be in the desert section, eating everything in sight.”  
“What - Vel, you can’t do that! You need to eat a proper meal first.” Vox protested.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re not my Dad, you can’t tell me what to do!” 

“Cake sounds good right bout’ now Vel, sign me up.” Valentino crushed his cigarette into an ashtray and offered his arm to Velvet.

“Val! Not you too!” Vox cried. But the two of them weren’t listening anymore. They strutted away, leaving Vox behind in the dust. 

Vox sighed, redoing the laces on his shoes. He saw you still standing beside him, awaiting his command. “Oh. Do what you’d like, I can get my own shit.”

You shook your head. “I’m not really thirsty or hungry.”

He paused. “I guess you wouldn’t be.”

You ground your teeth together. _That prick._ He knew exactly what he was saying. You reminded yourself to stay cool, to do so, you fantasized about punching Vox in the face as he walked away. 

You took your seat at a table and occupied yourself with admiring the woven fabric of the tablecloth. You didn’t know anyone at the table you were sitting at, and you didn’t try to make conversation.

At some point, you did make your way over to the buffet and scoop out a glass of punch for yourself. But nothing more than that, you didn’t trust your stomach to handle anything more than liquid at the moment. 

The ballroom filled quickly, the noise of chatter increased as well. While eavesdropping on a nearby conversation, you heard something that made your ears perk up. 

“Hey, isn’t that that Radio Demon?” 

The effect was instantaneous. News of the latecomer spread throughout the ballroom like wildfire.

“Radio demon?”

“Holy shit, it is him!”

“I’ll be damned.” 

“What’s he doing here?”

“Holy fuck. He hasn’t shown up since 39’.”

The crowd parted for Alastor. He too was dressed up for the occasion, wearing a red tailcoat, black silk top hat, and bowtie. 

Alastor’s clothes had the same oddities that puzzled you. A few tears in his coat and patches in tophat. Surely an Overlord like him was more than capable of mending his clothes. Unless he did it on purpose? You briefly wondered if there was a reason behind all of his clothes being ripped. 

Alastor settled down at a table of his own. Sitting by himself you noticed, not a single soul for a radius of two tables around him.

So he had come. You let out a relieved breath. 

You felt the urge to go up to him and talk to him directly but decided against it. That would draw unnecessary attention. There would be time to make the deal, you just had to be patient. 

“I didn’t know this was a masquerade!” You turned around and Alastor was standing right in front of, a large smile on his face.

Well, so much for trying not to draw attention. 

“Masquerade? Oh, you mean this,” you pointed to the black mask framing your eyes. “Yeah. I just wore it for fun.” Or to hide the way your eyes sunk into your face, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“It’s been a while since I last attended a masquerade, allow me to join you.” In one fluid motion, he summoned a fancy red and black that suited him. He held it to his face using its wooden holder and puffed his chest out with delight 

You smiled at the gesture. You felt less alone, even if your only source of comfort was from someone who you’d be making a deal with. 

Alastor’s face darkened as footsteps returned to the table. His mask poofed out of existence. 

“Ah, Alastor,” Vox set a plate of meats and cheeses on the table and leaned against it, coming between you and Alastor. “Care to dine with us?”

“Certainly not. I was simply saying Hello.”

Vox looked back and forth between you and Alastor. “Oooh, _my assistant_ . What, you got a little crush on dollface here? I don’t blame you, look how _cute_ they are.” He rubbed your cheeks between his hands, pulling your lips into a smile. “You’ve met my assistant numerous times now. Most of my other ones you’ve destroyed without a second thought, very rude by the way.” He laughed. 

Vox's fingers pinched the sides of your mouth uncomfortably. The pain brought tears to your eyes. You dug your nails into your thighs, clenched your teeth, and endured his touches.

“You’re mistaken Vox,” Alastor’s eyes shifted to you for the briefest of seconds. “I don’t use second-hand products.” 

Well, fucking, ouch.

Vox let you go, chuckling. “I was hoping to have a pleasant evening, but now it seems like that won’t be happening.

“The feeling is mutual.” 

Vox smiled, leaning against the palm of his hand. With a final curt nod, Alastor walked away, leaving you alone at the table with Vox.

“Oh Alastor, ever the charmer. He could learn to loosen up a bit, dontcha think, Doll?”

“I suppose so,” you answered quickly, rubbing at your sore cheeks. 

You felt the weight of Vox's stare on your skin and purposely kept your eyes fixed to the table. When Velvet and Valentino returned to the Overlord table with their plates, Vox left you to join them. 

\---

The night continued. More chatter, more Overlords gorging themselves, and more you wanted to escape to talk with Alastor. 

But you couldn’t. After Vox cut into the conversation earlier, he had been watching you like a hawk. You didn’t dare move or try to do anything that would make him suspicious. You had to wait for an opportunity to present itself. And luckily for you, one came in the form of music. 

The gentle beginning of a song made multiple demons turn their heads in curiosity towards the orchestra. Like clockwork, many placed down their drinks and plates, partnering off and taking positions on the dance floor. They moved in tune with the soothing melodies of instruments.

You were so transfixed on them you barely noticed the man that walked up to you, his footsteps clouded by the radiant sounds being plucked and pulled from strings. 

“Care to dance?” Alastor asked, extending his hand out towards you. You blinked up at him owlishly. Dance? You didn’t know the first thing about dancing. After some hesitation, you slipped your gloved hand into his, shivering at the contact, and allowed him to drag you to the dance floor. 

Wordlessly, you placed your free hand on his shoulder. In turn, Alastor’s hand came to rest high on your back. You realized this was the closest you’d ever been to him and the most you'd ever touched him. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You blamed it on embarrassment and nerves. 

Alastor led your movements, going slow when you stumbled over your footing. The two of you settled into a steady pace, slowly making your way towards the middle of the floor. 

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” you whispered once you were sure your back was turned to Vox. 

He laughed as you two twirled gently, spinning like petals falling from a flower. “I wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity such as this.”

He must have really wanted to make the deal then. “Is it true you never attend the convention?”

“Yes. It is,” He kept a respectful distance from you as you danced. Close enough so that you could properly dance but not close enough for it to be an act of affection. Even though you kept your touches light, you could feel the tension in his body. He truly hated physical contact, didn’t he? “I don’t care for these types of gatherings, the ones in which snobbish nobles attempt to convince others that they’re stronger than they actually are.” 

“And you’re different from them, how?”

He chuckled close to your ear. “I never lie about how powerful I am.” 

You continued your dance. A few couples down, you saw the golden shimmer of the Princess’ hair, the daughter of Lucifer Magne. What was her name again? Char- something? It didn’t matter. She danced elegantly in her equally pretty dress, a black tiara perched on top of her head. 

Once you were near the center of the ballroom, you whispered. “So about that deal?”

“Hush now, we’re in the middle of a dance, are we not?” 

You shot him a look that made him laugh. 

“It would be improper of me if I dragged you out into some dark, abandoned hallway,” now it was Alastor who’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “People might get the wrong idea.”

You fought off the heat that came with the implications of his words. Surely he wasn’t implying something obscene, right? He was the _Radio Demon._ He didn’t.... You shook that thought from your head. 

“I don’t care what other people think.” 

“You should. Reputation is everything in this world.”

“Well, it’s not one I wish to be a part of for much longer.” 

“That may be true.” 

He raised your hand above your head and began twirling you. “Call it a hunch, or premonition, but I believe this dance of ours will come to an end soon,” Spinning, spinning, the lights and environment spun into one large smear. You twirled on the tips of your toes, the fabric of your clothing spiralled around you. At that moment you felt helpless, being left in Alastor’s hands. “And I mean that both metaphorically and physically. This back and forth game of ‘can I trust you’ is nearing its grand finale,” you could feel the heat from his breath as he uttered his final words to you. “Once that happens, I think you’ll find it doesn’t matter if you trust me or not.” 

Your head felt like it was being mixed in a blender. Nausea made you squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth. 

“Alast- Radio Demon. Stop, you’re making me dizzy.” 

“Just a bit longer, this song’s almost up.”

You dug your fingers into his. “I’m going to be sick and _I will_ throw up all over your suit.”

He sighed. “Very well.” 

You came to a sudden stop and almost fell onto the floor. Alastor held onto you tightly, arm around your shoulder to steady you. The room was spinning in front of your eyes as the threat of losing your stomach rose again. The orchestra finished the song and was rewarded with a round of applause. 

“I think that’s enough dancing for the night.” Alastor murmured over the clapping. He led you back to your table. The entire way there you gripped onto him like a landline, feet sliding out underneath you. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, sitting back down on your chair. Just in time, as a fiery ache settled into your legs. You were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stand for the next while. “For the dance.”

He bowed, hat in hand. “The pleasure was all mine.” Instead of returning to his table or the dancefloor, Alastor left the ballroom, humming and simultaneously twirling his microphone between his fingers. 

Not a moment later you felt a great tug on your arm. Vox’s hand was clamped around your wrist.

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” he hissed urgently. His face was grim.

Before you could say anything he had already tugged you up on your feet, practically dragging you out of the ballroom. Once you were up on your feet, you followed behind him at a quick pace down the hallway. Despite the burn in your legs, you kept moving. 

The plush carpet soaked up the sounds of your footsteps. You assumed he knew where he was going, as Vox marched with practiced and knowing steps towards an unknown destination. 

Losing no speed, he pushed open a set of double doors. You were nearly whacked in the face as the door fell close again. You felt annoyed as you walked into the room, but that disappeared instantly at the sight in front of you.

The doors opened into a massive auditorium. It was wide and tall, so tall that it spiralled up high above your head. Rows of seats were lined in crescent shapes around a large stage at the front, where the red curtains were drawn shut. 

This was where the meeting would begin between all the Overlords. You'd never been in here before. 

Around the walls of the stage was a massive work of art. It was a victorian-like-painting that seemed to be mocking Heaven. The painting was of a falling Angel, only from a different perspective. The angel wasn’t falling, from Heaven to Hell, but _ascending_. Flames burned away the wings and dress of the fallen one, revealing a powerful, confident Demon, holding a trident in one hand. 

The painting didn’t show a painful or sorrowful expulsion, but one of joy, of freedom, of rebirth. 

“Holy,” you whispered.

Multiple heads turned towards you, glaring at your choice of words. You felt like slapping yourself on the head. Vox sighed. _Remember where you are._

“I mean, uh, fuck - _unholy_.” 

Your face was simmering as you followed Vox up a set of stairs to a private viewing box. Velvet and Valentino were already waiting for you when you arrived. 

“You brought _them_ up here?” Valentino nodded towards you. “Why?”

Vox sat down in a fancy, padded chair. Shrugged. “Because I want to.”

 _To keep an eye on me,_ you thought. Vox’s screen glitched for a split second, making you narrow your eyes. Could he still hear your thoughts? You thought that line of communication had been broken a few months ago. That didn't bode well for your deal with Alastor. 

If he could, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. There was nothing you could say, anyways. 

Demons slowly tickled in from the different entrances and took their seats on the lower levels and balconies. Surely Alastor must be within those who filed in, somewhere in the sea of horns and faces. 

Once the room was filled to the brim, the lights dimmed and the curtains to the stage were drawn open. A hush fell over the crowd, the last stragglers hurried to their seats. 

Time for the meeting to begin. 

Lucifer Magne walked on stage in an impressive white and gold suit. Maybe it was just your perspective, but he seemed rather short. There was a great round of applause for him. Up above him were multiple projected screens, so that those higher up could see him properly. 

Lucifer rolled his tophat off his head, down his arm and caught it in his hand. He bowed, soaking in the applause. When he placed his hat back on his head, the room was silent. 

“Greetings, most fair and foul of the Underworld. How are you all doing tonight?”

In response, thousands of demons and sinners hooted, whistled and clapped their delight.

“Wonderful!” he chirped, a sharp white smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. “Then let us begin.”

\---

You could see why Alastor hated these meetings. One by one each Overlord had the opportunity to take the stage and talk about whatever they liked. New trade networks, flexing their power, opportunities to work with other Overlords, new systems they were implementing, etc. _Talking and talking and talking._ That’s all they did. Over...and over...and over. You’d left to grab drinks for Velvet more times than you could count, and they were _still_ going. 

When you thought they would never be finished, Vox suddenly stood up. 

“It’s time for me to head backstage,” he said, buttoning the front of his suit. The jacket was loose and missing a few buttons to show off his colourful polka-dotted shirt. “It’ll be my turn soon.” 

He was going up? That was new. Most other times the 3V’s just sat back and enjoyed the show. 

“Ooh, good luck Voxy, I can’t wait!” Velvet squealed. Valentino gave an encouraging smile. 

“Thanks,” Vox said. Before heading out the door he knelt to your level. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

He gently brushed strands of hair from your face and cupped your cheeks in his hands. Then he kissed you on the forehead, lips light and cool against your skin. You shivered, eyes closing automatically.

“Goodbye,” he pulled away, tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes. “Be good for me, ok?”

You swallowed and tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible. “Of course, Boss.” 

He patted you on the head for good measure and then left, leaving you very confused. Goodbye? What did that mean? 

You didn’t have much time to contemplate it as the crowd applauded for the Overlord on stage who finished their speech. 

There was barely any delay before Vox appeared. Velvet squealed as he emerged from the shadows into the spotlight. He smiled and stretched his arms out as the audience cheered at the sight of him. 

Charming. Magnificent. Confident, like he was meant to be there. 

“Good evening,” he picked up the microphone from the stand and began walking with it, his other hand shoved in his pocket. “I know it has been a very, _very_ long night, special thanks to the Eldritch family.” The audience chuckled at his joke. From the front row, you saw the multiple Eldritch’s who smirked up at Alastor. “So I’ll get right to the point. I have made a deal with the king of Hell himself, Lucifer.” 

The wave of shock rippled through the theatre. If people were dozing off, they were certainly listening now.

“Now you’re all wondering: What type of deal did he make? What does this mean? Why should I care? Well I’ll tell you why,” he leaned forward, holding that audience's attention in the palm of his hands.“This deal is bigger than you. _Any of you_. Bigger than anything you could ever think of. It's about the advancement of this world.” 

He began pacing the front of the stage slowly. 

“You’re all aware of my companion, Alastor, the Radio Demon. For nearly 50 years he had an iron grip on this world and its transmissions through it. I’m not about to doubt his power nor his ability to hold onto that power. But there is one flaw in his logic,” Vox gazed into the audience and smiled, speaking directly to the Radio Demon himself. “Alastor, you _hate_ change. And your refusal to adapt to the modern world will be your downfall.” 

He let his words hang in the air before continuing, speech directed towards the entire convention again. 

“Alastor’s pride is exactly why our systems have been outdated for so long. But not anymore. Unlike him, _I_ embrace change. For what I am about to do is something no other demon has done before, not ever.” 

He stood center stage and took a breath. 

“With the permission and _blessing_ of Lucifer, I am announcing a complete unification of electricity transmission and communication all throughout Hell.” 

A murmur of confusion and disbelief swept through the crowd again. 

Vox revealed a remote from his pocket and pressed a button on it. Multiple screens popped up behind him and around the theatre, holograms showing his detailed plans.

You recognized the thin disk shape on one of the blueprints - an amplifier, the ancient relic Alastor told you about in wonderland. 

“Service everywhere! From the first to the ninth circle, everything will be connected. Demons and sinners will be able to call, talk and communicate through Hell, not held back by the restrictions of each circle. No longer will each circle be controlled by their own power company. It shall all be united under a singular management.”

He bared his teeth at the crowd, blood-red liquid pooling from the corner of his mouth. 

“United under ME.”

In a second his screen flickered back into a confident, charming smile. 

“But it doesn’t stop there. With a Hell-wide system comes with necessary factors. Where will the power come from? How stable will this new system be? I know some of you already have doubts and are plotting my demise. So let me put this into perspective for all of you old-timers.”

He pressed a button, and all across the map of Hell, millions of red dots lit up. 

“See those? Each one is a patron of the 3V company. They buy our services and we provide the goods.”

He talked slowly and clearly as if he was teaching arithmetic to a group of toddlers. 

“You’re all aware how a demon gains power from the number of souls they control and make deals with right? Even without making deals, I am able to derive a fraction of power from each and every one of these demons just _because_ they rely on my services.”

Realization was starting to dawn on the Overlords in the theatre. You realized it, too. 

“This is both a proposition and a threat. If you have any objections to what I’ve announced today, I hope you’re ready to go up against _this_ many souls,” he threw his arms out beside him. “Because that’s how many I have under my control. If you comply with what I’ve said, we’ll have no problems. We can even work out some business negotiations in the later future.” 

He leaned into the mic, voice laced with a threatening edge. “So make your choice. You’re either with us or against us.”

You felt your arms go limp. Your eyes were wide, not comprehending what you were hearing.

With his plan, 3V media would be everywhere. Across every device and every radio wave, every wire and light bulb, complete control over everything. The magnitude of his words hit you like a truck. Hell was huge. _Huge_ . And controlling all of that under one singular company, not even, under _one person_?!

That was beyond insane. You couldn’t comprehend it. 

He’ll be everywhere. Everywhere. And all at once, you realized that your lofty plans for escape were useless to begin with. You were already taking a gamble with the conditions before, and now? Freedom would be next to impossible. 

Your soul was his, for the rest of eternity. You’d never be free of him. You’d never escape him. You’d live this cycle of your torturous, monotonous life over and over and over for the rest of eternity. 

At that moment, events from your life flashed before your eyes.

The moon on the night you’d made a deal with Vox. 

The dusty warehouse, staring up at Alastor, covered in blood.

On the roof, looking over Pentagram city.

Driving along the highway, the setting sun blinding your eyes.

Wonderland, spear coated in a brilliant blue and white light.

The darkness of the Ocean, the chilling feeling of the water.

The rose wilting and un-wilting between Alastor’s fingers.

Angel’s flushed, enraged face, mouth open in a snarl.

Being carried on Husk’s back, staring at the cracked concrete.

The garden with Alastor, his self-confident smile. 

Your dance with Alastor, spinning, his words echoing in your mind. 

_“Once that happens, I think you’ll find it doesn’t matter if you trust me or not.”_

Your chest tightened as the glass you were holding slipped from your hands. It shattered on the floor, spilling its contents all over your shoes. 

You felt sick. You knocked over your chair as you stumbled to your feet. Everything was shaking, and you didn’t know if it was your body or the entire building. There was a distant hum of an engine, like an airplane diving nose-first, about to crash land right in the middle of the auditorium. Next thing you knew you were stumbling out of the theatre as the muffled applause rang in your ears. Too stuffy. It was too stuffy trapped underground, where the walls felt like they were closing in on you. You needed to get out. To get above the surface, anything to make you breathe again.

You turned down hallways and opened doors recklessly, everything passing in a blur. The plane didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to be growing louder.

Once you finally slammed open a polished door you found yourself on a balcony, overlooking the long, dark cave system with glimmering crystals.

You fell onto the railing, catching it between sweaty palms. You were gasping for breath, your entire body trembling and burning. All at once, multiple things happened.

The plane crashed and exploded in your ears. 

And then you begin screaming. 

Your cries sounded like a wounded animal, echoing across the stone. Such tortured screams seemed fitting in the 9th circle. You didn’t stop until black dots swam in front of your vision and you were coughing up your lungs. 

“Well, this has got to be one of the worst conventions I’ve ever been to,” Alastor’s voice. He leaned against the railing, a few feet away from you. “If there’s a sliver of a silver lining, it’s that you were correct in your assumption.” His lips curled. “Much as I detest admitting it. Vox indeed found another loophole.”

The loophole! You weren’t even thinking of that! He figured out a way to put that charisma to good use. So long as people kept watching and buying into Vox and his partners, he’d remain powerful. Who had done that before? No one! Under different circumstances, you would have gloated or rubbed the achievement in Alastor’s face, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“I’ve changed my mind about the deal,” you whispered hoarsely. Alastor’s face flickered into a dark expression. His hand gripped the staff of his microphone tightly. “Don’t be mistaken. The previous terms still apply. But I’m adding another more.” 

You turned and looked at Alastor. His pupils dilated at your expression. You felt a fire burning inside of you. A perfect mixture of grim determination, controlled agony, and reckless ambition left you with tears in your eyes and fists clenched tightly at your sides. 

“You and I are going to take Vox down,” You put so much emphasis behind every word you were practically spitting them out, hissed through clenched teeth. “And we are going to stop his plans to take over all of Hell.” 

Alastor extended his hand, a smile splitting his face in two. A part of you wondered if this was what he was waiting for. If he was betting on you being stupid or tired or angry enough to turn your blade against your master. 

“So it’s a deal, then?”

You squeezed his hand tightly as you shook it. A scalding hot gust of air blew over you and the air crackled with green flame and light. You crushed Alastor’s hand under yours as hallucinations flickered around you. Voices murmured in your ears and shadows swirled at the bottom of your feet as noise encompassed you in a vacuum. 

With a sudden zap, they were suddenly gone. The only thing left behind was the fading crackling of a radio. 

The deal was sealed. No turning back now. 

You remembered the thought you had earlier, before seeking out Alastor in the garden. 

You had thought that if your ship was sinking, you would rather jump off and drown in peace. 

But now you changed your mind. 

You weren’t going to abandon ship, you were going to set fire to the sails and burn with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little crumb of Lucifer and Charlie in this chapter!  
> The nobility system and government in Hell was something I've been thinking about a lot, it was fun to finally explore it a bit. While Lucifer is the king of Hell, I've always speculated there has to be someone or something above him. But, that's something we probably won't get into with this book. 
> 
> The 9 circles of Hell was based upon Dante's inferno, but I've changed it a bit.  
> 
> 
> Now that I've written it, I feel like I've made the story a bit convoluted and hard to follow. So I'll explain a bit.  
> Reader wants to run away from the city to live the rest of their life in peace (you'll see why next chapter), but because they know they wouldn't get very far with Vox watching them, they enlist the help of Alastor.  
> Then Vox announces he's taking control of the electricity/ power all through all 9 circles. This makes the reader realize that escape and freedom is just a petty dream they'll never reach, and they'll be trapped to Vox's side until the end.  
> sO, they decide stopping Vox's plan to go online is the only option, and change the deal around with Alastor. (Who as I mentioned in this chapter, was waiting for the reader to WANT to challenge Vox this whole time. He knew he didn't stand a chance at without someone on the inside to help him.)
> 
> I know having to explain what's happening in your story is bad and means you haven't written it well. Whoops. Next arcs should be easier to follow. I hope.
> 
> But still, anything could happen. Who's gonna win? Does Vox succeed and takes control of Hell's power? Or does Alastor and the reader win, destroying everything for his plans to work?  
> You'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Twitter/tumblr: @comfeyworks


	12. The Final Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and Alastor take a final stand to stop Vox. It's all or nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what my upload schedule is anymore. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This chapter is emotionally heavy at times and has violence.

_ Pentagram City, Vox’s Skytree. _ _   
_ _ 6 hours before the extermination. _

__

“This is ridiculous,” Alastor muttered, ears flattened and tucked underneath a beanie “Did I really have to wear  _ this  _ ludicrous outfit?” He gestured up and down at his person. Instead of his usual red suit jacket, he was wearing a ragged windbreaker and a pair of sweatpants. You had tucked the excess pieces of his hair into the hat, the only recognizable features of the Radio Demon being his red eyes and unwavering yellow smile. (Which was slightly peeved, being forced into clothes so out of his style.)

“Be  _ quiet, _ ” you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. “You’ll blow our cover if you don't shut up.”

Alastor grumbled something incomprehensible, radio cackling deeply in discomfort. You had wanted for him to wear a scarf as well, but that was something he wouldn’t budge on. 

“Absolutely not,” he had sneered at the fabric like it was poison. “I’m  _ not  _ covering up my smile.”

“But your smile is a dead giveaway!” you had argued, holding the red fabric in your hands. Every time you brought it close to him he leaned as far away from it as he could.

“And not something I’m not willing to part with,” he insisted stubbornly, pushing your hand aside. “I go in with no scarf, or I don’t go in at all.  _ That’s final. _ ”

So, no scarf it had been. 

Entering the building, the two of you headed straight for the elevator. There were two guards standing beside it at attention. You rolled up your right sleeve and showed off your bonding mark. If you were lucky, they would just let you pass, no questions asked. 

The guard on the right scanned your mark with some type of gun, confirming its validity. “What business do you have?”

Well, it seemed like luck wasn’t on your side. 

“Overlord Vox requested a maintenance check on the servers,” you replied calmly and evenly. “To make sure everything is running smoothly before the extermination.”

“And him?” he nodded to Alastor. 

“He’s with me.”

The guard nodded and stepped aside. “Go ahead.”

“Hang on,” the guard on the left - the bigger one - extended his arm out, stopping you. “We weren’t given any notice about this. Who gave you the order?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Overlord Vox himself. It was a last-minute thing.”

The guard seemed unconvinced, looking Alastor up and down with narrowed eyes. “Well, I’ll have to contact him to make sure.”

Uh oh. Not good. 

You crossed your arms, pushing down your fear and feigning annoyance. “I was given direct orders to carry out from Vox and you're not only wasting my time but you’re also questioning his decisions?” You threw your hands up in the air. “Go ahead and call him if you’d like, but I don’t think he’ll be too pleased with the interruption.” 

You could hear the gears turning in the guard’s mind, weighing your words and the consequences carefully.

“Alright, fine. But I’ll be escorting you.” 

“Thanks, but Vox doesn’t want anyone to witness the repairs. Security reasons and all.” 

“Then I’ll wait in the elevator,” the guard swiped a keycard on the wall. The doors slid open. He held out his open palm towards you. “Oh, and I’ll be confiscating your weapons as well.” 

Things were going to be trickier than you originally thought. You unsheathed your gun from its holster, placing it in the guard’s hands.

“Thank you,” the guard stepped into the elevator. You followed after him, Alastor trailing behind you. The guard pressed a button on the control panel and you started your descent. 

Alastor caught your eye, brow raised as if to say ‘ _ What now? _ ’. 

You didn’t know. But the guard would have to die. 

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Garden of Glory. _ _   
_ _ One week before the extermination.  _

One week. That’s how long you had to plan before time ran out and Vox unified Hell’s power.

“Because we’re going in right before the extermination, security is gonna be tighter than usual,” you said, sketching out a diagram of the Skytree on a spare napkin. You were in the same garden as usual, (which you found out was named the Garden of Glory, for some reason) talking over cups of coffee in the chilly morning. It never got cold enough to snow in Pentagram city, not even in the winter, but the temperature was still fairly cool. 

For his plan to go ‘online’ throughout all of Hell, Vox had servers set to receive and give information. Thousands of them, maybe more. Those servers would activate the day after the extermination, running on computers kept in a database. Using power lines already routed through Hell, the Skytree would act as the main hub, passing power to the different, smaller communication towers in the different circles. 

“We’re taking a few risks targeting the main Skytree. If he’s there when we go in, we’re pretty much screwed. If we fail to take it down, we’re screwed. But targeting it is the only option we have. There’s no way that I can get access to the locations of the other transmission towers.” Ideally, you would have wanted to destroy all the towers, but you were short on resources and time. Besides, it was more efficient to cut a tree at its roots rather than at the branches. 

“I’m not too concerned with smaller towers, frankly.” Alastor shrugged. “They’re on par with some of my own, which I can handle.”

Well, whether or not there were more towers to destroy, you’d just have to hope destroying the main Skytree would be enough to sabotage, or at the very least, delay Vox’s plans. 

“Vox doesn’t keep his data in one specific area,” you explained to Alastor, drawing on the napkin as you spoke. “He spreads it out entirely through the walls and insulation of the building using discs and hard drives.”

Figuring out how to destroy them had been a challenge. Especially since Alastor was next to useless with tech help. You spent the next hour discussing how to eliminate the problem. 

“We can’t risk destroying the entire building,” Alastor tapped his fingers against the table, brows knitted in thought. “There’s something inside that I need to get. It’ll become trapped beneath the rubble if the whole thing comes tumbling down.”

“And what is that ‘something’ you need so badly?” 

He patted your head with the end of his microphone like you were a child. “That’s something you don’t need to know!”

Annoyance flickered up in you. You had no patience for Alastor’s antics or mysteries today. You batted the microphone away from your head. “ _ I do need to know _ , if we’re gonna have any hope of finding it in time.”

Alastor remained unphased, rolling his mic over his knuckles easily. 

“The item is in Vox’s office,” he waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll do what we need to do and then drop by the office before we leave.” 

So complete destruction wasn’t an option. Nor was a controlled one, breaking every individual hard drive would take days or possibly weeks. You didn’t have that time. Using water, explosives, and just about anything else you could think of wasn’t realistic or impossible. 

You scratched your head angrily, creating knots and tangles in your hair. “Alright look, there’s a million hard drives, right? But even if they’re all spread apart, they have to be connected  _ somehow _ , either through a main port or server.”

You sketched a line down along the diagram, coming to a stop at the bottom of the building. 

“There’s a server room in the basement. That’s probably what’s controlling everything else.”

“Perfect! We’ll just destroy this  _ server room _ , and that’ll be that!”

“No,” you frowned. “Not exactly. If we destroy the main server, Vox will just replace it, and we’d be back at square one.” 

You leaned back in your chair and sighed. 

“Ideally, we’d infect the main server with a virus or something that would corrupt the entire system, but I’m not  _ that  _ skilled with coding. Plus, viruses can be cleaned and removed, with time.” You needed to find a way to take everything out by only using the servers in the basement. You furrowed your brows, going to bite your nails when you remembered you were wearing gloves. 

Alastor blinked like a deer-in-headlights, your words going completely over his head. His mind was probably  _ fried  _ with all the information you were dumping on him.

Wait a minute…

“Actually,” you leaned over the table, scrambling to pick up your pen again. “I think I have an idea.” 

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Vox’s Skytree. _ _   
_ _ 6 hours before the extermination. _

__

You knew the longer you waited, the less time you’d have to act. You needed to take out the guard before you arrived at the bottom floor. He was standing in front of you, to the right, armed with a rifle and a taser. The taser was clipped onto his hip and the rifle was nestled snugly in his hands. Your confiscated gun was tucked in the front of his belt, you had no way of stealing it back without him noticing. He also had a radio attached to him, an earpiece looping over his right ear. 

Alastor stood on the other side of him. You looked over at him, hoping maybe he could somehow help you. Alastor was staring at everywhere but you, humming innocently. You exhaled through your nose. Guess you’d have to do this yourself. 

You slammed the right side of your body into the guard, knocking him against the wall. Simultaneously, Alastor stepped out of the way for the two of you to fight. You kneed the guard in the stomach, trying to pry the rifle from his hands. 

The advantage of surprise quickly wore out as the guard realized what was happening. He struggled against you, trying to force the barrel end of the rifle towards you. In the scuffle, the gun went off, firing holes into the ceiling.

The guard overpowered you, tearing the gun from your hands and slamming you against the other wall. You hooked your leg underneath his and the two of you fell onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. 

The rifle clattered somewhere against the ground as the guard pinned you underneath him. He wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled out his radio.

“This is agent number 4356, requesting backup immediately!” he barked into it. But no one responded. There was only static and the faint sound of jazz music coming from it.

‘ _ About time you helped, Alastor, _ ’ you thought. You jabbed your elbow into the side of his arm and his hand loosened from your throat. You used that opportunity to bring your knees to your chest and kicked them outwards, successfully knocking him off of you. 

Windpipe free, you gasped for air, fingers sweeping against the floor. They brushed against the cool surface of the rifle. You wrapped your hands around it, brought it close to your chest. At the same time, the guard recovered and wrapped his hands around the other end of the rifle. 

The two of you wrestled for the gun once more. The guard punched you in the face, blood spurting from your nose, but you held on, knuckles turning white. Knowing you couldn't hold on longer, you slid your finger into the trigger, prayed for your safety, and pulled the trigger. 

The kickback from the rifle was stronger than your normal gun. The butt end jabbed you in the stomach and jerked around in your arms. The rifle fired a flurry of bullets into the guard’s chest, blood splattering your clothes and the elevator. He didn’t even have a chance to scream. He just let out a low groan, released his hold on the rifle, and slumped against the wall.

You fell back against the floor, lungs heaving to catch your breath. Alastor looked down at you, an amused smile on his face. 

“Thanks for your help,” you gasped, sarcasm dripping from your words. You wiped blood across your face, getting up to scavenge the guard’s body. You took your gun and his taser, slipping them onto your waist. The rifle was powerful but half of its ammunition was gone from the fight. Plus, you weren’t used to handling it.

You stood in front of the elevator doors, pinching your nose to stop the blood flow. Alastor stood by your side. 

“Wonderful job, assistant,” he commented.

You rolled your eyes as the elevator announced your arrival, opening up to the dimly lit hallway of the basement. You released your nose and took one step forward before stopping.

“Oh, wait a second,” you went back into the elevator, bending down to drag the guard’s body between the open doors. “It’ll keep the elevator open and prevent anyone else from coming down or calling it up.”

Sure enough, as the doors slid closed, they bumped against the guard’s body and retreated into the wall. You watched as they opened and closed repeatedly. 

“Hah!” Alastor laughed, finding the situation hilarious, apparently. You frowned at him, but couldn’t help the small twitch of your lips.

It wasn’t funny! It was a demon’s body for christ’s sake. Sure he wasn’t dead, but it was still disrespectful.

...ok, maybe it was a little bit funny, seeing the confused elevator trapped in an endless cycle, squishing the body like it was a marshmallow. But that was it.

Alastor discarded his disguise the second he stepped out of the elevator, tossing the clothes carelessly to the floor. Dressed in his usual red fashion, he dusted his suit off and summoned his microphone. 

“Ready?”

You wiped the smile from your face and nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you walked down the damp hallway, footsteps echoing across the stone. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t shake the constricting feeling of being watched. You shuddered, discomfort only growing when you arrived at your destination. 

At this section, the hallway widened, maybe 30 meters in width, and continued further north. In the distance, you saw the faint outline of a metal garage door. On the wall to your left was a door labelled ‘SERVER ROOM’ and on the opposite wall, parallel to the one on the left, was a door that read ‘ELECTRICAL ROOM’. You kicked in the door to the right and flicked on the light. 

Lined up against the far end of the room was a large control panel, set up with different buttons, levers and dials. You walked over to the control panel and pressed a few buttons. The monitors on the wall glowed to life. 

As you played around with the buttons and switches, Alastor gazed about the room like a child in a candy store. He stared at the blinking lights with curiosity, tapping one with his claw. 

“Don’t touch anything,” you warned. At that exact moment, Alastor pressed a button. A panel on the ceiling opened up, producing a disco ball. Alastor’s eyes shone mischievously. He began pressing buttons at random. Cheesy 70’s music started playing and the lights changed to the colours of the rainbow. 

“I said don’t touch anything!” you rushed over to deactivate everything. “You’re gonna get us caught!”

Alastor smirked like a cat that just got the cream, holding his arms up and stepping away from the control panel. 

“Oops. My bad.” he apologized, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

Honestly, he was like a child sometimes. You sighed, going back to the task at hand. After a few minutes of searching, you finally found the switch that read ‘server room power’. Directly below that was ‘Backup generators’. You flipped the switches for the generators off.

“Alas- Radio Demon, come over here, please.” 

Alastor, (who was sitting on an office chair, spinning around on the seat) snapped his head towards you at the mention of his name. Staying on the chair, he rolled over to where you were standing. 

You didn’t even know what to say to that, so you continued. 

“Let’s go over the plan once more. I’m going to go into the other room while you stay here. Once I give you the signal, flip this switch here,” you pointed to the one for the server room. “That’ll shut down the power for the server room. During that time, you’ll have to stand guard while I remove the resistors on the servers and computers. After that, we turn the power back on-”

“-without resistors, the voltage coursing through the wires is high enough to fry all the hard-drives but not the servers. We physically destroy the servers for extra measure and get out.” Alastor interrupted, reciting the words you’d said a million times with boredom. “Yes, yes. I  _ know  _ what the plan is, you don’t have to repeat it.”

“We only get one shot at this!” you snapped. “Excuse me for wanting to be safe rather than sorry!”

Alastor just smiled up at you, a bit stunned but not upset at your sudden outburst.

“Just-” you sighed, rubbing your eyes until stars exploded behind them. “We can’t mess this up. We’re already taking a big enough risk as it is.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t fail,” he assured you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You nodded, feeling the frustration leach from your body. “Ok. I’ll be going, then.”

Swiping a flashlight off of the counter, you left the room. Back in the hallway, the temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees. You could tell from the white puffs whenever you breathed, but you couldn’t feel it. 

You couldn’t  _ feel  _ it. God, you were really running out of time. 

“Just a little longer,” you urged yourself, opening the door. “Just hang on a little longer.”

The server room was big. The computers in it were nothing like computers you’d ever seen before. They were large rectangles that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, lined up in organized rows. The blue light that illuminated your path would go out once the power was gone. 

Before things started, you needed to expose the motherboard for each computer. You’d brought some tools with you (hidden, underneath your pants) in case the metal coverings were locked. But to your surprise, the doors opened without any resistance. 

Huh. Guess Vox was confident no one would be down here but him.

You went down each row, opening the doors on each server. It would save you precious time once things got started. Finally, after about ten minutes, you were finished.

You turned on the flashlight and whistled. A two-note long whistle to alert Alastor to start. For five seconds, nothing happened. Then the lights flickered once, twice, and shut off completely. 

You hadn’t noticed the sounds of the servers humming until they were gone, shutting off with a low rumble. 

Complete silence enveloped you. You’d be lying if you said the darkness didn’t scare you a little bit. Or a lot. Ok, maybe a lot. 

With shaking hands, you held the flashlight and began removing the resistors.

They were small and pill-shaped. It astounded you how something so tiny could stop the flow of so much electricity. That was the power of technology, you guessed. 

You continued working in silence, save for the sounds of your breathing and the soft  _ plink, pink, pink, _ as you dropped the resistors to the floor. The seconds dragged on for what felt like an eternity. You were about a three-fourths done when you heard a large clanging sound. 

You froze, looking around the room with the flashlight. 

“Radio Demon?” you called out. 

No response.

You drew your gun with your free hand. You crossed your wrists, holding the gun above the flashlight, and walked slowly to the door. You pushed it open with your foot, revealing more darkness.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Only the power in the server room was supposed to be shut off, not the entire floor. What had gone wrong? In your confusion, you ran straight into something solid. You screamed, dropping the flashing and firing the gun out of fear. 

The flashlight was picked up and tilted upwards, shining upon the  _ thing  _ you had run into. 

Alastor. Luckily not harmed from your misfire. 

“ _ Jesus fucking christ! _ ” You cursed at him, placing a hand over your chest. “You bastard, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Rude,” he pressed his lips into a flat line. The light from the flashlight only made him look more menacing and horror-y. “I was only doing what you told me to.”

Apologies could be saved for later, you had to find out what was going on first. “Why is it so dark out here?” 

“When I flipped the switch, the power went off  _ everywhere _ , including in my room.”

“What, why?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I came to find you.”

Was the switch mislabelled? Had Vox programmed it so that the entire basement would shut off when the switch was flipped? Whatever it was, you’d have to get the power back on. You didn’t like being trapped in the dark. 

You tucked your gun back into your belt. “Sorry for shooting at you, I thought I heard-” you were interrupted by a groan of metal coming from down the hall. Your face paled. Pushing Alastor aside, you stared down the dark hallway, squinting at the shadows. You couldn’t see anything. 

“Light. Flashlight,” you demanded, holding your palm out. Alastor dropped it into your hand and you shone it down the hallway.

What you saw made you break out into a cold sweat.

The metal garage at the end of the hallway was slowly opening. Small dots of light blinked back at you, gurgly hisses and growls echoed against the stone. You nearly fainted on the spot.

The  _ things  _ in the basement were being released, and they were coming right towards you.

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Garden of Glory. _ _   
_ _ Two days before the extermination. _

__

“…there’s another thing we need to be worried about,” you said, gripping the table tightly. Simply talking about the subject was difficult. “As part of his security, Vox has these…these  _ things _ . In the basement.”

You inhaled a shaky breath. “They’re called solders.”

“ _ Solders _ ?” Alastor cocked his head to one side. 

You nodded, forcing yourself to continue. “I’ll break this down into the simplest terms. They’re monsters. Half-human, half-machine creatures with mechanical insides and rotting tissue on the outside.” 

Your voice cracked on your last word. You cleared it and tried again. 

“They...the human, or demon, they’re injected or inserted with pieces of metal that grow and overtake the rest of the body. The growth is from the inside out, so the organism slowly deteriorates, losing their natural senses as they descend into madness. Most of what he keeps in the basement have past the point of no return. They’re like rabid dogs - metal skeletons with chunks of rotted skin stuck to them.”

The expression on Alastor’s face was a mix of fascination and desire. His eyes glowed red and his usual static thickened around you, heavier and warmer than usual. 

That sick fuck. 

“This goes for the rest of what you’ve revealed,” he began after a moment. “But you’ve got an extraordinary amount of information, dear, how ever did you find it?”

“Sneaking around,” you whispered, fingers twitching as you remove your gloves. Alastor’s eyes widened when you showed him your hand, metal pieces poking out from corroded tissue

“And because...I’m one, myself.”

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Vox’s Skytree. _ _   
_ _ 5 hours before the extermination.  _

SOLDER. Those bodyguards at his party, the occasional helpers he had around his headquarters, they were solders. 

Since your punishment after Wonderland, you had felt the stirrings within you. Alien pain, agony that wasn’t supposed to exist, numbness and fatigue in your limbs. Your symptoms had only worsened as time went on.

Loss of your senses, increasing discomfort with your body; Your internal organs were slowly turned into metal and machine, and you could do nothing but watch it decay in horror. 

There was still time before you went past the point of no return, before you became like those solders in the basement, who had lost their sanity, their consciousness, their  _ humanity _ . 

It was your hope that before you lost your mind, you could escape to a different circle, live out the rest of your wretched life in agony, decay in solitude. You’d be alone yes, but you’d be free, or as free as you could possibly get. 

_ But now? _ ...Well, you were already starting to feel yourself slipping. Your thoughts were becoming muddled, incoherent. Your mind wandered and you found it hard to stay in reality. Each time you moved you felt your skin slip underneath your clothes like a wet cloth. 

You didn’t have much time left. But you vowed to keep it together until the deal was sought out. 

“...tening to me?” you were pulled out of your dissociative state from Alastor’s fingers snapping in front of you. 

“Huh, what?” your tongue felt thicker and dryer than usual, you swallowed multiple times but you still felt parched. 

“Go do your thing,” Alastor pushed you back into the room using his microphone. “I’m more than capable of handling this.”

Alastor was strong. Strong enough to fight off the solders. You relaxed a fraction. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll, I’ll get back at it.” 

He nodded. The two of you went your separate ways. 

The sounds of metal clashing and screeching met your ears as you continued working. Your hands trembled as you tried to block the noise out of your mind. It was hard when all you could think of was a sea of solders, crawling on all fours, overpowering Alastor and coming for you. You broke out in a hot flash of sweat. 

You thought of how they’d pin you limbs down, touch and poke and prod parts of your body, injecting and inserting unknown objects into the cut skin. Your begs and pleads for mercy falling of deaf ears. Not knowing what was happening, not understanding what was happening to your body. 

The flashlight fell to the floor again. Your entire body felt weak and sick. You sank to your knees, realizing you couldn’t breathe. No matter how much you tried to tell your body to calm down and get up, it wouldn’t immobilized by fear.

Panicking. You were panicking. 

You wrapped your arms around your knees, rocking back and forth. Alright. So, you were panicking. Not good. You needed to get working but you couldn’t push yourself to keep going. You needed to take a minute to recover.

_ One minute. _ You told yourself. You leaned your head back against the solid surface of the computer. 

You were fine. You were ok. Just breathe deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Count the seconds and focus on your surroundings. The cool tiles underneath you, the sound of your breathing, the taste of saliva on your tongue. 

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three.  _

_ Four.  _

You kept breathing, counting each second until your heart rate had lowered. Once you had mostly recovered, you stood up. You weren’t at 100%, but it’d have to do for now. 

“Assistant!” Alastor called out to you, voice strained. “We have a problem!”

_ Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic. _

“What is it!?” you yelled back. 

“My, er, power isn’t working!”

Ok, time to panic. 

“ _ What?! _ ” you rushed out the door, heart nearly stopping for the millionth time that day.

Alastor was fighting a hoard of creatures.They were thin, bony, completely metal with glowing eyes and sharp, crooked teeth. His eyes glowed in the dark like red headlights, illuminating the creatures whenever they got close. 

Alastor was fending them off, but he was obviously struggling under all the weight. _ He needs help.  _ With newfound purpose, you drew your gun and started firing, bullets whizzing and screeching as they bounced against metal. 

“Do you see those?” Alastor pointed over to the area above your head. You followed his finger with the flashlight. A tiny, square-shaped object, no bigger than your hand, was stuck on the wall above the doorway.“Those are called minimizers, they’re another type of ancient relic! They suppress magic!” 

“How many are there?!” you yelled, shooting down a solder that tried to take a bite out of you. 

“I counted four! One above each door, and two over at the end of the hall!”

You’d both be defeated unless Alastor got his powers back.

“Alright, I’ll take care of them, hold them off!”

You destroyed the one above you easily. Fueled by adrenaline, you ran towards the other door, shooting a few more solders along the way. 

“Look out!” Alastor warned. 

You turned around just as a creature body-slammed you into the ground. Your head cracked against the floor as you fell onto the tiles. 

Up close, you could see how disgusting these beings were. Emaciated metal frames, rotted skin sticking to parts of their body. Saliva dripped from their mouth and onto you, mixed in with the oils and acids of their machines. And the  _ smell _ . It was awful, you gagged at the overpowering stench of putrid death. 

You looked into its glowing eyes, unable to move. 

The solder’s mouth unhinged, ready to take a bite out of your face. That was enough to free you from your immobilization. You brought up your arm and it bit down on forearm. 

There was pain, but not as much as you thought. The solder’s teeth had only made it halfway through the skin when it hit something solid. Something not made of bone.

Metal.

You pressed the barrel of the gun to the creature’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Oil and acid and black blood splattered your hand and face. You wasted no time getting to your feet and shooting the next minimizer. 

Guess there was something good about becoming a monster, after all. 

Meanwhile, Alastor seemed to have gotten his power back. Shadows and spirits swarmed around him, enveloping the solders and dragging them into holes in the ground. His doppelganger-shadow was stretched high above him,  _ laughing _ . The air crackled with loud radio noises. 

“Only two left!” you yelled, pushing yourself to continue. If you stopped for a second, you were afraid panic and fear would overtake you again. 

“They’re over by the metal doors, where these solders came from!” Alastor summoned fire in his hand, sending flames into the mass of creatures. The solders shrieked when hit, fleeing away from the light. “The minimizers have a short-range, but if I go any closer, I’ll lose my powers again!”

“Do you think you could close those metal doors?” you asked, pointing to where the solders came from. 

“Yes, certainly!”

“I’ll destroy the two relics. Then we drive the solders back and lock the doors, clear?”

“Crystal, my dear!”

“Alright, cover me!”

No time to be scared now! You ran down the hall, shooting anything that tried to come close to you. True to his words, Alastor covered you, sending solders up in flames left and right. 

Once you were in range, you aimed for the minimizer on the left side. As you shot at it, a strong force gripped you by the hair and pulled your head back. You yelped, losing your balance for a second. Suddenly, there was a loud whizz by your ear, an intense heat, and the pleasure was released. 

You regained your balance. The solder was up in flames, convulsing wildly on the floor. You smelt burnt hair. When you felt the back of your head, a few hairs were scorched by the fireball that brushed by you.

Alastor’s attack was close to hitting you. Very close. But it didn’t.

You took out the remaining minimizers with ease and called out towards Alastor.

“They’re gone! Let’s push them back!”

Seeing the full display (or at least a partial display) of the Radio Demon’s power was astounding. He summoned a wall of fire that forced the solders backwards. You readied to jump as the fire drew close to you, but it simply split and went around you, licking harmlessly at your heels. You finished off the remaining stragglers with your gun and together, you forced the mob of solders back into their cave. 

“Now!” you commanded. 

The outline of the doors glowed red. After a moment of resistance, they groaned and slammed shut with a resounding bang. The solders hissed and growled furiously, banging against the door. 

They were subdued. 

You collapsed to your hands and knees, panting. That had been scary.  _ Really scary, _ but the two of you were victorious. 

Trotting like a proud house, Alastor jogged over to you, red aura surrounding him. He was also short of breath, with the faint outline of dark circles under his eyes. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. You got a glimpse of a glowing red ‘x’ on his forehead. 

“Piece of cake,” he huffed, extinguishing the remains of the fire with a snap of his fingers. 

You looked at him like he had sprouted a second head. “ _ Really _ ?”

Alastor offered the end of his microphone for you to grab, laughing. 

Removing the last resistor, you whistled the two-note tune for Alastor to turn the power back on. There was beeping, a large hum, and then the room glowed with light. 

Allelujah. 

You dusted your pants off and walked over to the power room. 

“How’s everything?” you asked Alastor. He was sitting back in a chair, legs propped up on the table. 

“Honestly? I don’t know! I don’t understand half of these doohickeys here!”

You supposed that was fair. You pressed a button, looking at the status on the monitor and crossing your fingers it had worked. 

_ ERROR: SERVER CAN’T CONNECT TO DRIVES AND DEVICES _

You read the message over multiple times, not believing what you were seeing. 

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, overjoyed. “It actually worked!”

“I don’t think you should bring heaven into this, dear,” Alastor murmured.

“Oh, right,” you  _ really  _ had to stop doing that. “Well, regardless, we’ve done it! Although we’ve still got to destroy the servers.”

Alastor jumped up from the chair eagerly. “Actually,” he snapped his fingers. A large rumble shook the room. Muffled sounds of metal crunching and glass crashing met your ears. In less than five seconds, they had ceased.

You stared at Alastor with an open mouth. He smiled happily. 

“All done!” he chirped proudly. “Now we just head upstairs and we’re home free!”

He never failed to defy your expectations. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Alastor turned on his heel, walking towards a table in the middle of the room. He snapped his fingers and a radio poofed out of thin air. It was an antique model made up entirely of polished wood. He turned on one of the dials, turning the channel. The radio spat out nothing but scratchy static until a beautiful hum of music crackled out of it. Alastor admired the sound for a second before turning around. “Perfect! Now we can go!”

“What’s that for?” you asked. Alastor smiled at you. (Looking slightly more tired, you noticed, the circles under his eyes were now darker.)

“A gift,” he simply said. 

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Vox’s Skytree. _ _   
_ _ 4 and a half hours before the extermination.  _

The two of you rode the elevator up to the top floor. The blood on the elevator walls had dried into a dark brown, almost black colour. It smelt bad, but not as bad as the solders did. 

You inspected your wounds. Aside from the bite on your arm, and a few general bruises and scratches, you were ok. 

For some reason, it felt weird. In most of your missions you’d come home injured head to toe. Broken ribs, punctured lungs, fractured leg, the list went on. Being so...uninjured after breaking into Vox’s headquarters? It all felt too easy. 

But as you rose you realized it wasn’t just your imagination. Something else was wrong. You sensed it in the split second before the doors opened. 

“Duck!” you screamed. 

You hit the ground hard, bruising your chin against the floor. Alastor flattened himself on top of you and hissed something. The tendrils of shadow wrapped the two of you into a tight cocoon just as the gunshots started.

You were so close to Alastor you could feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. That and you could...smell his breath? Ugh, someone had to introduce Alastor to the idea of a toothbrush. You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the banging to stop. 

As the last clink of the bullet shell hit the floor, the tentacles unravelled, the two of you fell out of it unceremoniously. The entire elevator was littered with holes, bullets piercing right through the metal. The guard’s body hadn’t been spared either, he practically looked like swiss cheese. 

Alastor scurried to his feet, stepping on your back as he got up. 

“Ow- hey!” you protested. But he wasn’t listening to you. He was already out into the lounge, hurrying with purpose towards Vox’s office. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, getting to your feet. If Vox wasn’t aware of intruders, that bullet trap sure as Hell alerted him now. Still, for good measure, you propped open the door again with the guard’s body. 

Wiping blood on your pants, you stepped out of the rickety elevator. Out of curiosity, you picked up a metal casting off of the floor. The letters ‘AW’ were embedded onto it. 

AW. Angelic weapon. 

You felt your heart skip a beat.

If Alastor hadn’t blocked those bullets, they would have killed both of you. 

Not only that, but the guard in the elevator was dead.  _ Dead dead _ . You felt nauseous with the realization. You’d never killed someone before. Although you  _ technically  _ weren’t at fault, you still felt guilty. Your actions had unintentionally caused his death. 

Fuck. 

Which made you wonder, if Vox had a trap set up for the elevator opening, what other traps might he have in his office?

“Be careful!” you called out. “We don’t know if he’s trapped the-” 

A loud snapping sound made a pit form in your stomach. Casting the bullet shell away, you frantically rushed over to the office, ignoring running into danger yourself. 

“Hey, are you-!?” You skidded to a stop just outside the office. Metal spikes poked out of the ground and walls from all sides, each one at least 2 meters long. Alastor was in the middle of them, contorted wildly to avoid them but otherwise unhurt.

“Peachy keen!” he grinned, wriggling like a worm to free his arm. “Vox is such a nitwit. Had he set a proper trap, I’d actually be caught in it! What foolishness. Why open with bullets and then use something so medieval as  _ metal spikes _ ?” He summoned his radio and tapped the end against the floor. The spikes were enveloped in black goo. They hissed and slowly disintegrated into nothing. The furniture and house plants left behind were littered with holes, as well as Alastor’s coat. “If it were me, I would have used acid. Much harder to escape from.” 

Finally free from his cage, he cracked his body back into place, limb by limb. He dusted off his suit and looked at you with a big smile. You pointed to his shoulder, mouth agape. 

“Hm?” He followed your finger to a round bloody hole, where one of the spikes, unfortunately, caught him. The flesh was sizzling and steaming, an effect of being hurt by an Angelic weapon. “Ah, this is nothing. It shall take more than a simple flesh wound to kill me!”

Your head was spinning at all that was happening. At least your panic had gone away. Alastor picked his way through the punctured environment over to a wall of filing cabinets. 

“I’m gonna scout for more traps,” you sighed, body tingling from the mix of emotions. “You good here?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he hummed absentmindedly. 

Sweetheart? 

“...ok, then.” you left Alastor to do a sweep of the entire floor. You were astounded by how many traps Vox had set up. Tripwires, lasers, motion sensors, the list was endless. You worked as carefully as you could to neutralize the traps without triggering them. You did set off a few flamethrowers and pitfalls along the way, but you weren’t as concerned with stealth anymore, so it didn’t really matter.

Once you were confident you’d snooped out most of them, you returned to the office.

“You done?” you asked, poking your head through the doorframe. 

Alastor’s back was turned towards you. His lidded eyes were focused on a single sheet of paper held between his hands. It looked delicate and strong at the same time, the air around it curling mysteriously. You couldn’t tell what it was from how far away you were. He let out a content sigh as he slipped the piece of paper into his breast pocket, eyelids fluttering.

“Uh, hello?” you cleared your throat, slowly creeping up behind him. Whatever stupor Alastor was in shattered instantly. He turned around to face you, the same ecstatic smile on his face. 

“I’m finished. Shall we go-?”

He was interrupted by the clanging of an alarm. The two of you winced at the noise. You pressed your hands to your ears as an automated voice blared over the speakers:

_ SECURITY BREACH. ACTIVATING SECURITY PROTOCOL NO.05 ALL EXITS WILL BE LOCKED AND SHUTDOWN _

“Seems like we’ve been found out,” Alastor yelled over the noise. “Took him long enough.” 

He summoned his microphone and walked over to the window. With an ear-piercing screech from his radio, he shattered the glass into a million pieces. 

Alastor began climbing through the window. “It’s unconventional but we’ll have to teleport out of here. You’re not afraid of heights, I assume? I recall you had an adoration with them that night I found you on the rooftop-” he froze when he realized you weren’t following him. “Aren’t you coming?”

You looked at your hands, curled them into fists, took a deep breath. You had to make a choice, so you did.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

How Alastor heard you, you didn’t know. Maybe he was reading your lips. But when he spoke again, you could hear him clearly, “I don’t follow.” 

You laughed humorously, weakly, tracing a hole on the wooden desk.“Don’t you get it? I never intended to escape to begin with.”

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Garden of Glory. _ _   
_ _ One day before the extermination. _

__

“We have to have a plan in case something goes wrong,” you said. 

Alastor cocked his head to one side. He did that a lot. You swore, he was more like a bird than he was a deer. “Are you saying you intend to fail?” 

“No. We just need to be prepared for all situations,” you stirred your cup of coffee, swirling around the remains. “Like if we run into Vox.”

“We won’t.”

“But if  _ we do _ ,” you stressed. “Or if anything happens that complicates things, I’ll buy you as much time as I can for you to get your  _ something _ . If your life is ever in danger,” Alastor laughed when you said that. “I’m serious. If your life is in danger,  _ run _ . Ok?”

“Me? In mortal danger?” He pressed a hand to his chest and threw his head back. “HAH! Preposterous!” 

That pretentious asshole. You stared at him, unimpressed. 

“Yes, yes,  _ so laughable _ . Just  _ please _ promise me you won’t let your ego put your life at risk?”

He toned down his attitude a fraction. “ _ Fine _ , if you want it so badly, I agree to not act out of recklessness. Satisfied?”

“Very. Your life is more important than mine. If I die, that’s fine. But if you fall, that’s it. Vox won’t have anyone to rival him, anyone that opposes him. So stay alive. Don’t die.”

He eyed you from the corner of his eye, smirking. “I don’t intend to.”

* * *

_ Pentagram City, Vox’s Skytree. _ _   
_ _ 4 hours before the extermination.  _

Your path would end here, awaiting whatever punishment came to you. Not alone in some forest, living in fear and agony of being found by Vox. No more running away. 

“But the deal-” Alastor insisted. 

“I don’t care about my half of the deal!” you interrupted him. “All I care about is that Vox goes down. Pretty soon I won’t even look like this, I’ll just turn into one of those solders, a machine, a  _ monster _ . There’s nothing left for me but my fate with Vox.”

A fate you were going to see out to the end, no matter what it may be. Your life in Hell started with Vox, and it would end with him, too. 

Alastor opened his mouth to argue when there was a huge bang coming from the other room. Time was running out. 

“He’ll be here any second,” you fought off the panic rising in your throat. “You’ve got to go. Now.”

“This is,” Alastor spluttered, caught off guard by the new turn of events. “This wasn’t part of the deal. You said that you’d-”

“Alastor,” you whispered softly. So,  _ so _ , softly. It was the first time you had used his name despite knowing him for what, almost a year? It was a nice name. Three syllables. The first two were silky and raspy, the third was short and quick. You’d regretted not using it sooner. 

At his name, the Radio Demon made a squeaking noise of shock, words dying in his throat. 

“Please,” you begged, looking him dead in the eye. “Please, go.” 

He blinked slowly. Once. Then twice. The hand wrapped around the microphone clenched and unclenched. His body seemed to struggle with what to say or how to react, even as the banging grew louder and closer.

“I thank you,” he uttered, finally. “You’ve aided me a great deal, and for that, you have my gratitude.”

You nodded, not trusting your throat to say anything. Why did you feel like you were about to cry? You hadn’t been close to Alastor and your partnership with him had only lasted a short while. Yet, you felt a knot form in the back of your throat. A prickly rose, like the black ones that wilted in his hands, scratched at your esophagus. You blinked tears away.

Alastor stood up straight, feet hanging off the edge of the window. “Goodbye, Vox’s assistant. May our paths never cross again.” 

You left him with one last surprise. “ _ Au revoir, Alastor. _ ” 

A callback to the french he spoke the night of Vox’s party. His eyes widened a fraction before relaxing once again, delighted. He smiled, the most pacific smile you’d ever seen him wear.

“ _ Adieu _ .” 

He stepped off the building, plummeted towards the ground, and was gone.

You stood staring at where he once was, trying to remember what he looked like. Black-tipped pointed ears, a curtain of red hair falling at the sides of his face, piercing ruby eyes, puffed-out chest, like a peacock demanding attention. But as the seconds grew, his person became harder and harder to visualize. Were his pants black or red? You couldn’t remember.

You remained in that spot even as footsteps drew near you.

“Well, well well,” the calm drawl of Vox’s voice made you flinch. “Look at this mess you’ve made.”

You turned around, keeping your expression calm. “Hello, Vox.”

Vox stood in a fancy monochrome suit. Probably dressed for some showing or televised program for the evening. He looked around the room, grimacing at the damage. “At least you stayed. Saved me the trouble of chasing after you.”

“So what is gonna be? Lock me in the basement again, torture me, kill me?” you blurted.

Vox raised his eyebrow at you, frowning. “ _ Kill you? _ Why would I do that? No, all I want you to do is to deliver a letter.”

...what?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

He should have been pissed,  _ furious _ ! But instead, he had just shrugged off the complete collapse of his work like it was nothing more than water off a duck’s back. 

Did it not work? Did he have a backup plan? Was there something you overlooked?

...no. No, you were certain you’d thought of everything. You could tell by the tenseness in Vox’s shoulders when he looked through his drawers, finding empty space where there used to be a paper. 

Now that he was looking at it, you could properly see the name of the folder the paper (or whatever Alastor took) used to be in. 

The label simply read:  _ Radio Demon - insurance.  _

Huh. 

Shuffling through another stack of papers, he plucked one out. The letter was golden in colour, sealed with a wax stamp. Most likely it had some sort of magical spell engraved into it, preventing the seal from being opened. He strolled over to you, holding out the letter. 

“Miss Killjoy. 666 news station. You’ve been there before, remember?”

Yes, you remembered. Once before to deliver a soul contract. 

You took the envelope. When the edges of the paper touched your hand a buzz of electricity shot through you. You shivered. 

“Yes, I remember. That all?”

“Yes. I think that will be the final order I give you. Please, do whatever you want after it’s done.” 

You didn’t like how damn  _ calm  _ he was being about all of this. What was his deal? You bit the inside of your cheek. “You’re letting me go? Just like that?”   
He sat back in his punctured chair, one screw away from braking. “I don’t have a need for  _ traitors _ .” 

Well, you couldn’t argue with him there. Still, you didn’t believe for a second that you’d get out of this situation unharmed. More than likely he’d make your life a living Hell  _ after  _ the letter was delivered, probably during or after the extermination. 

You put your hands behind your back and bowed. “Well, Boss, it’s been an honour.” Hah! Not. 

He smiled, screen flickering. “Please, the honour was all mine, dollface.”

* * *

_ Pentagram City, 666 News station _ _   
_ _??? hours before the extermination. _

You had a feeling of Deja Vu as you entered into the 666 news station. The main studio they filmed on was less crowded than usual, what with the extermination being in...four hours? Three hours? You didn’t know, the entire business with Alastor in the Skytree had gone by in a blur. 

When you arrived at the studio, they were setting up for one of Vox’s performances, most likely a late-night talk show where he gloated and boasted about his plans for his company. Guess the threat of the extermination didn’t perturb him in the slightest.

You located Kaite Killjoy (Inhaling another cigarette) and handed the letter off to her.

She opened it and blinked in confusion, looking up and down between you and the paper in her hand.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“...Oh, nothing.” She folded the envelope and tucked it away quickly, staring at you with an odd look.

“...ok, then.” there was a nagging pit in your stomach, the same feeling you’d gotten in the elevator when you were with Alastor. Something was off, you just didn’t know what.

When you went to leave you felt a hand clamp around your wrist. 

“Where do you think  _ you’re  _ going?”

Sick feeling confirmed. You forced yourself to stay calm while your stomach churned. 

“Excuse me?”

At the same moment, a jolt of pain ran up your shin. You flinched, your legs felt like they were going to give out from underneath you. 

“Oh. OH,” she laughed to herself, a high pitched cackle that reminded you of a hyena. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me?”

“Vox. Pfft -  _ haha _ !” 

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that you’re going to be a  _ star _ .”

A star? What did that-

Before you could process anything, you felt your legs fall out from under you. For real. Then the floor started shifting, splitting in half and opening up. Miss Killjoy had spun a string from the rafters, floating out of harms way above you. 

Then you realized it wasn’t your legs, that were falling out from underneath you, it was the floor itself. 

“ _ Ahhhhhh! _ ” a scream escaped from your mouth out of pure instinct. 

Your legs and arms flailed out, finding nothing but air. Your stomach felt fizzy with the sensation of falling. Kaite was high above you, fading into nothing.

You fell down into darkness. You hit the ground hard with a sickening crunch, stars lit up behind your eyes, and you blacked out.

* * *

_ Pentagram City, ??? _ _   
_ _??? hours before the extermination. _

When you came to, your head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. You groaned, lifting yourself onto your hands and knees. Moving sent another wave of pain into your temple. You tried again, slower, feeling around your surroundings. 

You couldn’t see anything around you. The lack of light alone was enough to make yourself panicked. You were reminded of the nights trapped in the basement with no light, no way to tell how much time had passed. Unable to move as the solders operated on you. The only thing you could do during those times was to wait. Wait until you were released. 

You weren’t in an area as big as the basement, however. You were in a small tube, a metal one, just from what you could feel. It was tight, not enough to make you feel crushed but just enough to make you claustrophobic. It felt like you were trapped in a metal coffin. You forced that nasty thought out of your head and focused on the sounds around you.

Sounds, yes! You could hear music...something upbeat, with bells. You stood up on shaky legs and pressed your ear to the metal, trying to pick up on as much as you could. 

Clapping, cheering, an audience? And a voice? Vox’s?

“ _...veryone, please put your claws, paws and jaws together for our wonderful contestant!” _

There was a groan of metal and the floor underneath you began rising. You wobbled, nearly falling over, and braced yourself against the moving walls for support.

The floor pushed you up into a blindingly bright light and the walls around you retreated, leaving you standing in the open. You covered your eyes with your arm and squinted, looking around like a stunned animal. 

Lights blinded you from all directions. Multicoloured spotlights swung in wide arcs around the studio. 

You were standing on a stage. A large one with a million different cameras pointing at you from every angle. In the dim outskirts beyond them were seats packed to the brim with different demons, all hooting and hollering, ready for a show. 

A show.

Oh god. You knew what show this was.

Vox’s boisterous, confirmed your horror. 

“It’s time to play  _ Trivia Torture! _ ” 

Vox wasn’t going to punish you normally. Oh no. That would be too easy. You’d taken his plans from him, destroyed everything he was so  _ damn smug  _ proud about shoving in the other Overlord's faces. You made him laughable. 

No, any regular punishments weren’t suited for what you had done. Vox wasn’t going to just hurt you. He was going to grab you by the throat and drag you against the floor until the skin fell from your bones. He was going to make it slow, and painful, and make you suffer.

He was going to throw a show.

And you were going to be the star of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Do yall remember the reader delivering the soul contract in chapter one? and how they mentioned 'unwilling souls' were forced into a game called 'trivia torture' in the second one?   
> Oh yeah, it's happening.)
> 
> This was the longest chapter I've written for this fic, and one of my favourites to write! I wanted the whole basement reveal to be big, especially with revealing that the reader is a solder. They'll be more info on those creatures in the future. (Which were partly inspired by fnaf, can you tell?)  
> And!!! after 12 chapters!! the reader said Alastor's name!! wow, so romantic!!!  
> it's a long road yet. 
> 
> It's a little detail, but Vox's suit colour has meaning. Think, what type of event do you wear all black to?
> 
> Also, I've posted a list of songs/ music that I use/ have used as inspirations for this fic. You can find it pinned on my tumblr, but here's the link as well.  
> https://comfeyworks.tumblr.com/post/625752145116921856/tsoys-playlist-songs
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> twitter/tumblr: @comfeyworks


	13. Showtime!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader takes part in Triva Torture, a beloved gameshow hosted by Vox himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains blood, gore and violence. Read with caution. 
> 
> Special thanks to Ana for proofreading and giving feedback for this chapter!

“Good evening distinguished viewers, it is I, Vox! We’re coming to you live from Pentagram City with an extra special episode of Trivia Torture. Don’t touch that remote, you won’t want to miss it! Well, not like you have much of a choice! Every screen across the city will be locked to this program, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!”

The crowd cheered for Vox as he finished his introductory speech. Your face, no doubt, was broadcasted on every television and device in the city, looking very confused and shocked.

“As always, let’s go over the rules before we begin,” Vox explained, pacing the front of the stage. “Trivia Tortue is a game of questions and fighting. The contestant will answer a question that will be followed by a fighting phase. For every answer they get wrong, a penalty will be enforced during the fighting stage. For every question they get correct, a benefit will be gifted for the fighting stage! As the audience, you can vote on what types of punishments will be enforced!” 

This was all happening very quickly. Should you just make a break and try to escape? You considered it until you saw the glint of the forcefield. Located just at the edge of the stage, reflecting back at you when the light hit it at just the right angle. Vox passed through it seamlessly as he paraded about, but you knew if you tried to escape, you’d be electrocuted, or worse. 

You were trapped, forced to play this game. 

“Are you ready? Then let’s begin!” Vox spread his arms out wide, gesturing to a screen behind you on stage. “Question one!”

There was a drum roll, a flash of the spotlights, and the question was displayed on the screen. 

_What is the name of the king of Hell?_

**A** : Lucifer Magne **C** : Lilith Magne

 **B** : Bezeldabub **D** : Vox

Well, that one was easy. 

“A,” you answered. 

_Ding! Ding! Ding!_ A bell chimed. A flurry of confetti sprayed you in the face. 

“Correct!” Vox said. “Lucifer Magne is the king of Hell.”

He turned to the camera, tone shifting to sound like a salesperson. “3V media would like to thank the King for his generous sponsorship! You can call 666-666-666 or text ‘3vox’ to ‘APPLE’ and get a free, ten dollar coupon code to Lulu World!”

You stared at him, astounded, spitting confetti out of your mouth. Was he really talking about a fucking sponsorship in the middle of this? Yes, the answer was yes. 

“And now, back to the game!” 

A hatch in the ceiling opened and a hefty longsword dropped down into your hands. It was made of pure metal and _heavy_. To keep it upright, you had to hold it with both hands. 

“What is this for-”

You were interrupted by multiple hatches opening from the ceiling, dropping a nest of vipers. You screamed, stumbling backwards and shaking off the snakes that had fallen onto you. The audience laughed at your bewilderment. 

“Event number one: Pit of vipers!” 

Oh, pit of vipers indeed. The entire stage was covered with silver snakes. They hissed viciously as they slithered around you, glaring at you with their beady eyes. Their fangs gleamed under the stage light, dripping with green venom. 

One lashed out at your leg. You batted its head away with the flat end of the sword. The head made a comical bonking noise as it hit the metal, and the snake was knocked a few meters away. 

That didn’t stop the rest of their advances, and you realized simply hitting him like you were holding a baseball bat wasn’t going to work.

You’d have to kill them. 

You swung the sword at an incoming group with both hands, slashing them in half. You tried to aim for the heads as you fought, to make their suffering as short as possible. Even when you cut them in half, their upper bodies still strained towards you persistently. It was only when you cut off their heads were they finally incapacitated. 

You hesitated to use the word ‘dead’ to describe them. Did these things even die? Maybe, maybe not. You didn’t know, but as long as they stopped chasing you, that was all that mattered.

You weren’t quick enough to stop all of them. One viper coiled around and bit down on your left arm, the same one that was injured from the solder. There was a pinch and then your entire arm felt like pins and needles were crawling up it. 

You ripped the viper off of you, tearing the fangs from its mouth. 

“Aw fuck,” you dug around into your arm, winced, and pulled out the fangs. Your vision blurred slightly as you threw them on the ground, an effect of the poison, you assumed. 

“My my, what a wonderful job they did!” Vox cheered. “Let’s give them a hand, shall we?”

The audience clapped. You just stared glumly at the camera, wiping the blood from your sword. 

Because you had answered the first question correctly, you were given the weapon as the advantage. Thank god - actually, Lucifer. _Thank Lucifer._ You didn’t want to think what would have happened had you not had the sword. 

“Question two!” 

Vox’s voice turned your attention to the screen, where a new question was on the board. 

_What does the contestant do when they get depressed?_

**A** : Go sightseeing **C** : Go birdwatching 

**B** : Seek pleasures in their master **D** : Read a book

Personal, much, Vox? Unless that was his point.

He smiled back at you smugly. 

Yeah, that was _definitely_ his point. To humiliate and hurt you in front of all of Pentagram City. He wanted you to answer with B. 

Well, too bad.

“C is the correct answer-”

_BZZZT!_

The lights flashed red and a buzzer went off.

“Oh, incorrect! The answer was actually B.” Vox announced, a hint of sadness in his voice. That sadness didn’t last for long, replaced by cynical enthusiasm. “Wow! Imagine being so touched-starved and emotionally damaged you seek comfort in the master that owns your soul!”

You gritted your teeth, shooting him a death glare. He barely even flinched.

“Welp! Onto the next phase!”

The doors on the opposite end of the stage opened slowly, revealing the bulky silhouette of a massive black bull. His horns curled outwards, sharp and lethal. The bull’s nostrils flared, locking his glowing red eyes onto you.

Wait, he wanted you to fight a BULL? He was out of his mind?! That thing was easily twice your side. It could squish you like a pancake just by _breathing_!

You readied your sword and shifted your feet, only to find you couldn't.

“What?”

Whenever you tried to move your feet, you were met with resistance. You used your arm to try and pull your leg up - nothing. Your feet were stuck to the ground by some unforeseen force. 

Oh. So that’s what the penalty was. 

The bull roared, pawing at the ground with its hoof.

“All together now - three!” Vox counted. 

How were you supposed to do anything without being able to move? You’d be a sitting duck!

“Two!”

Gah! There was no time to think! You had to make a choice - defend or attack?

“One!”

You lifted your arms in a guard, holding the sword pointed outwards.

“Go!”

The bull was released and he charged you. At the last second, you threw your weight to the left, as far as you could. The bull just barely clipped the right side of your body. Something horrible cracked in your right arm, but you held the sword firm, tearing a straight line down the side of the bull’s body. 

Hot, gooey blood sprayed your body and coated your hands and sword. The bull drifted to one side and crashed into the forcefield on the opposite end of the stage. Electricity shot through the animal’s body, making the lights flicker for a few seconds. Then the bull collapsed on its side, shaking the floor. The smell of burnt fur and blood filled the air.

Your feet were released and you dropped the sword, cradling your right arm gingerly. Metal parts poked out from underneath your skin at certain spots. It was fractured at best, broken at worst. 

You sucked air through your teeth as you tried to bend your arm. It hurt, but not as bad as it should have. The process of becoming a solder had graciously numbed some of the nerves in your arm. 

“Ouch! That looks like it hurt!” Vox again, giving you no break whatsoever. Guess there were no commercials lined up for this program. “Onto the next question!”

Drumroll, lights flashing, question on the screen. 

_What famous Porn Star did our contestant abandon?_

**A** : Angel Dust **C** : Angel Dust but underlined

 **B** : **Angel Dust but in bold** **D** : _Angel Dust but in cursive_

Oh, that bastard. 

“I didn’t abandon him!” you protested. 

“Answer the question, please.”

“ _I didn’t!_ ” 

“You have ten seconds to choose a response. Ten-”

“Alright alright, it’s A!” 

_Ding! Ding! Ding!_ Confetti was dumped on you again. 

“Correct! Our dearest contestant ruined their one and only friendship with porn actor Angel Dust! Imagine having a slut as your best friend and then _still_ somehow messing it up?”

A hot wave of shame and disgust rolled through you as the audience fell over themselves with laugher, cackling like crazed animals. The ‘boo’ section of the studio boo-ed loudly, which was surprisingly the most tolerable thing since this whole shit-show started. 

From the corner of your eye, you spotted yourself on camera, cheeks and the tips of your ears flushed bright red. 

This was the worst. It was one thing for them to be laughing at you, but to be attacking Angel as well? 

You clenched your fists at your sides. “Angel being a sex worker has no weight on his worth as a person.” 

“Ooh, is that what he told you after you paid him?” someone from the audience yelled, sending the entire room into another fit of laughter. 

Hell. This was literal Hell. 

And right then and there you decided something. You weren’t going to let Vox drag you around however he wished. You weren’t going to let him have what he wanted _that_ easily. You were going to kick and scream and fight him until all the strength in you was gone, or you were dead. 

You were going to give him a taste of his own medicine and fight fire with fire. 

As the doors to the opposite end of the stage opened, you were shocked to see what was standing behind them - a solder. Just a single one, held back by a collar around their neck. It hissed and spat at you, scratching the floor in desperation to attack you.

You felt extremely calm as you took a wide stance, picking up the sword from the ground. 

Time to use his own tools against him. 

“I got one for you, Vox,” you yelled, standing tall. “Why did you lose to your own human?”

Vox’s eyes met yours just as the solder was released. It sprinted towards you. 

“Is it because A: You’re arrogant-” you jumped away at the last second as the solder tried to swipe at you. 

“B: You’re egotistical-'' parrying the solder’s next attack, you dropped to the floor and rolled to avoid its bite. 

“C: You treated me like shit-” you drove the sword through the solder’s eye and into its skull. It made a horrible screeching noise and thrashed on the ground as you pulled the sword out. Despite the damage the creature took, it was still trying to attack you, reaching out for your ankles. You stepped on its skull, pinning it to the floor.  
“Or D: All of the above,” in one quick swipe, you severed the small metal piece holding the head to its body, decapitating it. The solder went limp and collapsed to the floor.

You make eye contact with Vox, burning holes into him and ignoring the half-stunned-half-impressed looks from the audience. “The answer is D.”

“...let’s move onto the next ques-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you threw the sword into the digital screen displaying the question. The glass shattered, electricity crackling around the embedded sword. Anger rushed through you as you whipped around, pointing a finger at Vox.

“No, this is MY turn to talk, and you are going to listen to me for once!” you snarled. “You fucking self-centred _bastard_ ! Had you only been even a _fraction_ nicer to me, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now! You would have kept my loyalty but instead, I turned to your _arch-nemesis_ and helped him!”

You paused your rant to turn to the camera, putting on your best smile that you could, covered in blood and sweat and other fluids. 

“Hello, Alastor! I hope you’re enjoying the show.”

Your rage was back as you focused on Vox again. 

“How did that happen by the way? You must have known something was up between me and him, but you didn’t do anything.” That was something you were genuinely curious about. Vox had the ability to peek into your thoughts and communicate with you telepathically whenever he wanted to, so why didn’t he stop you and Alastor? 

“Don’t tell me you weren’t strong enough to stop us?” You didn’t believe that was true, but it still felt good to be mean to him. “How embarrassing, that the human you owned was able to take you down so easily. Does it make you upset? Mad?”

You dropped the false smile to glare at him, pure hatred in your expression. 

“You don’t have anyone to blame but yourself. You deserve _everything_ that’s happening to you.”

Vox looked at you with an unreadable expression, neither angry nor calm. “And so do you.”

With a snap of his fingers, electricity coursed through your body. You fell to the floor, body spasming out of control. Burning and piercing sensations gnawed at every inch of your skin. Once his attacks stopped, you’re left on your back, winded. 

There was another drum roll. The screen lit up with a bit of struggling, the question broken up and glitching across the screen. 

_Who will the contes tant cry o ut for help?_

**A** : Vox **C** : Alastor 

**B** : Angel Dust **D** : God

The question only made you angrier. You spat blood out of your mouth. “No one!”

_Bzzz!_

Vox tutted, shaking his head. “Too bad! Looks like we’ll just have to pry the answer from you ourselves!”

Metal clasps wrapped around your ankles and wrists, holding you to the ground. You lifted your head up to see a mechanical nail gun positioned above your leg. At the front of the stage, Vox held a remote in hand, thumb hovering above the button. 

No. _He wouldn’t_

You tested your restraints, they were strong. You wouldn’t be breaking out of them anytime soon.

“Well?” Vox asked. “Are you going to give us an answer, or not?”

You inhaled sharply. Just how stubborn were you going to be? 

“No.”

He pressed the button. The nail drove into your shin and pain exploded up your leg, hitting the bone or metal or both. Your resolve collapsed. 

“ _Alastor!_ ” you screeched, surprising even yourself. You had just shouted the first thing that came to mind, you didn’t really expect him to come help you. 

But apparently, Vox did. For the first time that night, he appeared somewhat nervous, eyes darting around the room, waiting. 

But no one came. 

Your restraints snapped free and you curled over your hurt shin, whimpering. You grabbed the head of the nail and pulled, sending a hot rush of pain up your leg. You cried out and let go. 

Again. You urged yourself, sweat and tears pouring into your eyes. _Again_.

Pushing through the pain, you gripped the slippery head and pulled with all your might. Your mind was blinded by white agony, but you kept going until it was freed with a wet squish. The bloody nail clattered to the floor with a _clink_. 

At this point, you were starting to feel very disoriented. The world swayed and bent in front of your eyes, and when you tried to stand up, you fell back down. 

You heard footsteps, and then suddenly Vox’s foot was on your chest, keeping you to the ground. 

“You did turn to Alastor’s side,” he said in a hushed voice. “And you ‘defeated’ me. Congratulations! Are you proud of yourself? You must think you’re soooo smart, don’t you?” he ground his foot down into your sternum. You gasped for air.

“You didn’t _really_ think I wasn’t aware of your meetings with him, did you? You only got so far without my interference because I _let_ you. You’re both nothing but worms beneath my feet.”

How much of what he said was the truth, how much was a lie? It was impossible to tell. But one thing was for certain - you were angry and bitter and f _ed up with him._

“Don’t fool yourself Vox,” you croaked, holding his gaze with newfound confidence. “Alastor is and will always be twice the man you are.”

The look on Vox’s face was _priceless_. His mouth twisted into a nasty scowl and his pupils narrowed into slits. The room shook and the lights flickered in his rage. 

The side of his shoe cracked across your face. You coughed, blood and spit pooling in your mouth. By the time you got to your feet, favouring your good leg, Vox was in his usual position, addressing the audience. 

“Well folks, it seems we are reaching a finale! Are you all ready?!”

A huge roar from the crowd signified their approval. 

“Alrighty then! Here! We! Go!”

_How is our contestant going to die?_

**A** : In pain and alone **C** : In pain and alone 

**B** : In pain and alone **D** : In pain and alone 

Vox didn’t even wait for your answer before the lights dimmed and the spotlights turned towards a door in the middle of the stage. It opened, fog and glittery sparkles pouring out of it. Your eyes widened. 

“Lady Velvet?” you croaked. “What are you-”

Your words were cut off as she stepped forward suddenly, produced an axe out of nowhere, and swung it in an upwards arc. It would have disembowelled what remained of your organs had you not jumped away at the last second. 

“The final event: The poppy media superstar herself - Velvet!”

The crowd cheered, some avid supporters squealing and crying over Velvet’s appearance. However, she never looked or blew kisses to them like she normally did. No, her eyes weren’t on them, but on _you_. 

A large, plastic smile stretched across her face, pulling the skin taught. The whites of her eyes seemed to drown out the small dot of a pupil in it. She took a stiff step forward.

“Isn’t this just so much _fun_?” she said. Even her voice sounded different, detached and hollow. 

This wasn’t Velvet you knew. This was someone entirely different. Unhinged, mad, crazy. Everything about her felt unnatural. From her unblinking eyes to the perfectly ironed folds of her dress. It made shivers run down your spine. 

She let out a cackle of glee and jumped towards you. You reached for your sword before realizing you didn’t have it anymore. 

Without a weapon, the only thing you could hope for was to get out of her way. But she was fast, _extremely_ fast. The edge of her axe caught you in the side, tearing a large gash into it. 

You cried out in pain, stumbling back a few steps. You pressed a hand to your side to stop the bleeding, but even then, your shirt was soaked within seconds. You pulled your hand back slightly to examine the wound and cringed.

It was bad. Really bad. She must have hit something major from the amount of blood that spewed through your fingers. You were in bad enough shape as it was, losing precious blood wouldn’t help you at all. 

Velvet had gotten some blood on her as well. She smeared it over her face, grinning at you madly. 

“Velvet,” you pleaded. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” she cocked her head to one side, her neck cracking audibly. “Because! _It’s fun._ Ahaha!”

Your heart clenched. Was she really going to do this? Did your history mean nothing to her? Those times when she sewed your clothes or giggled when you sprayed her with water - did it mean nothing to her? “I-I Don't, I thought -”

“Did you hear what the fuck I just said?” You winced when she cursed. Velvet had _never_ cursed before. “I. Said. It's. FUN.”

Oh, that Vox. You had to hand it to him, he knew just how to make you feel worthless. He could torture you and humiliate you as much as he wanted, but nothing stung worse than being backstabbed by your ‘friend’. 

Hah! Maybe this was karma, for what you forced Angel through. 

She threw the axe across the room, the point of it found your shoulder blade. You fell on your back, stars bursting in front of your eyes. Velvet’s heels clicked against the floor, and then she was looming above you, grinning down at you with her never-ending-smile. Your mind was starting to play tricks on you, for you saw two of her. 

She pulled at the hilt, detaching the weapon from your shoulder with a gruesome squelch. You screamed, hot tears pouring from your eyes. Every part of your body burned horribly. 

“Any final words?” Vox’s voice cut through the cloud of torment, airy and light. 

You rolled over, pushing yourself onto your elbows, gazing ahead at the nearest camera. You blinked, the red light blinked back at you. Who out there was watching you right now? Angel, Husk, Baxter, Alastor? Were any of them watching, did any of them care?

The realization that this would be the end suddenly hit you. This was it, and your death wouldn’t be heroic, or gallant or anything like that.

It would just be over. Just like that, like blowing out a candle. That’s all death was. 

And it _terrified_ you. 

You’d thought of your final moments many times before and imagined what your final words would be. But now that it was actually happening, you found that your mind was blank. You stared at the camera, wordlessly, pitifully, spewing out the only two words that came to your tongue, hoping whoever out there was watching would understand. 

“I’m sorry.”

Velvet brandished her axe, gifting you a smile that had only a hint of her previous personality.

“Thanks for all the fun times! I hope you enjoyed them as much as I have.” 

She lifted the axe high above her head. In that second you had deja-vu to that moment you had knocked Cheri’s light out. Was this what you had looked like? Had you grinned in pure delight, eyes glowing with murderous intent as you readied your weapon? Had your whole face screamed _entertainment_?

Velvet brought down the head of the axe and sunk it into your skull. You felt your head explode, and then there was a hollow silence. 

.

..

..

....

Your hearing was still there, and so was your sense of touch, but it was far far away, like you were underwater. There was the roaring crowd, the electric hum of some theme song, fading further and further away. 

You weren’t dead. Why weren’t you dead, dammit! 

You were moving. You felt yourself being dragged by your feet, hands uselessly smearing blood against the floor. 

You weren’t dead. Not yet. But you’d be there soon. 

Honking of Horns, sirens in the distance, a ragged cough. Footsteps, quick and rushed. Your body being dragged across rough stone.

Clang of metal, shifting of plastic. Rest.

Wherever you were reeked of sour milk and putrid food. Whatever you were laying on was squishy and wet. Trashbags?

 _What a crappy place to die_ , you thought, settling further into the filth. You didn’t have the strength to get up. 

You felt your mind slipping, falling out of consciousness with the world. Dying didn’t seem so scary now, it felt like a relief. At least everything would be over and the pain would go away. For good. 

The last thing you were able to comprehend before you passed out was the loud blare of a ram’s horn, vibrating through your body. 

The extermination had begun. 

....

...

..

.

You were awake again. You tried to move, only to realize with frustration that you were still stuck in your limbo from earlier, experiencing things but from afar. A void of nothing. You had a self, but not a body. You had a mind, but not quite a consciousness. 

You concentrated and flailed, desperately trying to move, speak, or make a sound. Nothing. 

At some point, a small pinprick of light shone through the dim nothingness. You urged towards it. The dot grew.

You gritted your teeth and pushed. With each push, the closer the light became, and the more awake you felt yourself becoming. _Becoming_. A hand, a leg, still not existing physically but your sense of body was coming back. With it, so did one feeling: a sharp pain in the center of your chest. 

Even as you felt fatigued from your efforts, you didn’t stop for a second. You were terrified that if you did stop, the light would disappear completely, and you’d phase out of existence.

Finally, with one last push, you pulled yourself out of your trapped state and into the light.

All at once, you felt pain explode through you. 

Unimaginable pain. Everything you had ever felt. From birth to your last moments, condensed into one split second of agony. You didn’t even have time to scream with how quickly it passed. The sensation left you exhausted and very, _very_ sleepy. 

Feeling content to rest, you let yourself slip away yet again. 

* * *

_In Porn Studios, one hour after the extermination:_

“Here you go,” Katie Killjoy handed the soul contract back to Vox. He slipped it into his wrinkled suit, thrown on haphazardly. “That show was amazing! Our ratings are bound to go through the roof after this!”

“Yeah, they are,” Vox agreed, half listening.

“By the way, why didn’t it break?”

His eyes snapped up to her. “Huh?”

“It didn’t break,” Katie repeated. “The soul contract. They usually burn and flake away after the show is over and the demon dies. But this one didn’t.”

“Oh, that. That’s because we used a _human_ . A soul contract breaks when someone is dead- _dead_. Now they’re just – dead.”

Her eyes glinted at the revelation. “Oooh, does that mean we’ll have another show using them?”

Vox shrugged his shoulders. “Possibly.”

After Katie was dismissed to do the post-extermination-news, Vox sat down on the couch and set the contract on the coffee table. He stared it at like it would jump up and turn into his assistant. It didn’t, obviously. 

His human had been with him for so long, he’d be lying if he said he _wasn’t_ going to miss them entirely. But, he knew he’d see them again, soon enough. Just not now.

“...didja really have to do that?” Valentino murmured from a few feet away, lying on his stomach. 

Vox turned to face him. Valentino had woken up from his nap on the couch, half-naked. He had spent the extermination with him at Porn Studio’s penthouse, just the two of them. Velvet had gone to clean herself up after the show. They both knew it would take her hours to clean the stains from her dress and to put on her makeup again, so he and Val had gotten… frisky, and messed around while chaos brewed outside their windows.

“What?” Vox asked. 

“Kill em. Ya assistant. Seems like a bit of a waste, doesn’t it? After all that _work_ you put into them.” 

“Actually - things went perfectly. Almost too perfectly.”

Valentino smirked, sitting up. “Oho. So you never intended for them to survive that procedure?”

“Not initially. But as things came together, it was more beneficial if I just killed them, rather than let them rot as a solder,” the TV demon shrugged. “I could have kept them, sure. But right now, things are better this way. There’s only so many pieces a doll can be broken into before you have to replace the whole thing.”

Valentino laughed. “That’s true.”

Vox paused for a second. “You’re wondering why I didn’t use _that_ , aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” the moth demon hummed, coming closer to snake his arms around Vox’s waist.“That’s your natural gift, isn’t it?”

“Well, that _natural gift_ drains an awful lot out of me. I don’t have the power to keep that up for an extended period of time. At least not now. And even if I _did_ use it on my assistant, a puppet on a string isn’t what I need right now.”

“Me personally, I would have just dragged em’ back by their ankles and doubled down on the _discipline_.” 

Vox sighed, prying Val’s arms from him. He picked his bowtie off of the ground and strung it around his neck.“I know _you’d_ do it. You’re so damn uptight, Val. Sometimes you _need_ to lose a card in your hand to gain a better one. And that’s what I’m doing - gaining a better one.” 

Valentino frowned. “...just what do you have planned, Vox?”

Vox smiled innocently, tightening the tie around his collar. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing...for now. For now, we wait and let them explore the world outside of their nest. We do nothing. But for them? They will do all the work for us, bring what we want to us on a silver platter.”

“You’re placing everything on a game of _chance_?!” Valentino exclaimed. 

“Yes! But look - If this works out, Alastor will be taken out completely! Eliminated forever! Don’t you get it?” Vox took Val’s hands in his own. “We _have_ to take this chance.”

Valentino looked at them unhappily. “And what if you’re wrong? What if letting Al and your assistant destroy your fuckin’ building was for nothing?”

“Don’t you know what the odds are? I know betting on Alastor having sympathy may seem stupid, but just, trust me,” Vox said. “If I’m wrong, we find another way to get to him. Nothing gained, with little lost.”

Valentino paused. Then sighed, shaking his hands free. “Alright, Voxy. _I’ll trust you._ So what are we gonna do now?”

“It's _waiting_ we have to do now, waiting for time to pass and for the world to evolve.”

A gurgle of Vox’s stomach made him pause.

“...that and, go to McDonalds. I’m starved.” 

Valentino shot up from the couch, blankets falling off of him. “Ooh. I’m coming. Vel joining, too?”

“Yeah. In a bit. She said she wasn’t going to order anything, though. ‘On a diet’ or some shit like that.” 

Valentino ran his hands along Vox’s shoulders, purring in his ear. “She always is.”

He managed to pull Vox down for another round, and then a second, and then a third before Vox had enough and slapped his hands away to get changed. By the time they finally left the studio, it was almost dawn and they were both covered in scratches and lovebites. 

* * *

When you woke for the third time it was in darkness. But it was different from the rest. 

You flexed your fingers and felt something hard and wet and rough against the pads of your thumbs. You tried opening your eyes and failed.

Everything was sore and heavy. Your eyelids felt like they were glued shut.

After a minute of failing to see anything, you began to panic, fearing you were trapped in the perpetual limbo again. But, to your relief, your left eye cracked open a smidge. 

It was just a millimetre, but the sliver of red light was enough to calm you, to allow yourself to rest further. You opened your eye halfway, taking in the fuzzy red sky. 

You were lying on your back, you realized. With each second your senses and awareness for your surroundings were slowly starting to come back to you. 

Your face was wet. Not even your face but your entire body was soaked to the bone with water. It was raining? It had to be. 

Your ear twitched at a soft churring noise coming from some distance. What on earth was that? It sounded like...eating?

You wiggled your fingers and toes, blood rushed through them, awaking them from numbness. Your right eye opened. You blinked water out of your eyes and forced yourself into a sitting position, shivering as your bare back met the brick wall behind you. 

Naked! Fuck! You were naked!

You scanned your surroundings for something to wear.

From what you could see, you were in an alleyway, tucked from public view between two buildings. There were a few...metal trash bins scattered about, rain splashing against the lids. Graffiti and posters were glued to the walls, but that was all.

No clothes. That would be a problem. 

Your eyes were completely open now and you could move your limbs freely. You rubbed the crust from your eyes and froze at the sight of them. They were black, padded, with sharp nails on each digit. You looked down at your feet, where the similar attributes carried on to them.

At the same time, a repulsive scent floated by your nose. The scent of death. 

Standing was impossible so you crawled. While you instinctively wanted to head out of the alleyway, away from the nasty smell, your body headed further into the darkness. Yet, for some reason, your eyes didn’t seem to mind. You could see everything, from the cracks in the walls to the multiple shining eyes gathered in a circle. 

There were a couple of them, maybe 5 or 6, huddled and making those curious squelching sounds that your ears could hear all too well. They were short and round, chittering and yapping in some unknown language.

The hilt of an angelic spear caught your attention, you followed it down to the body and that’s when you saw-

An arm, poking out from between the creatures. The wrist was torn open, exposing the half-metal inside. 

Not just any arm. 

_Your arm._

You felt a sudden urge to vomit. You heaved on the side of the alleyway, your stomach - new stomach, giving nothing but air. Of course, it was empty, you just _died_ after all. 

Oh my god.

You were _dead_. 

You rushed towards a puddle, still crawling on your hands and knees. An unrecognizable reflection stared back at you. 

Two small, rounded ears were perched atop your head. Your normal skin colour had turned into a bleak, grey. On your face was a patch of black that stretched across your eyes, your hair fell into messy, short strands around your face, highlighted with a few hairs of white and silver. The black of your hands and feet faded into the grey of your skin at just a little past each wrist and ankle. You brought a hand to your nose. Short and button-like and coloured black. 

Holy shit.

You were a _raccoon_. 

Or at least, half a raccoon. Inspired by a raccoon. Based upon a raccoon. Just like how Alastor was deer-ish.

Alastor.

Your throat formed a tight lump. The extermination was finished, and therefore your partnership and deal were, too. 

Speaking of deals-

You checked your right forearm. The deal marking created by Vox was still there, but unmoving, tattooed onto your skin in dead, dark-grey lines. Not the electric blue and white they usually were.

He still owned your soul, but something was different. Maybe he was rejecting you? 

You took a huge breath, head swimming and feeling dazed. Your chest felt like someone had it in a vice grip, making every breath difficult and painful. You pulled your knees close to your chest. Instinctively, your tail wrapped close to you as well.

Wait. 

You spun in place, falling straight into a puddle. You yipped in pain as the furry appendage was pinned under your body. You rolled off and examined it. 

The same colour as your hair, with some grey and black stripes cutting across it horizontally. Though your skin was still smooth and lined with small hairs, like it had been when you were a human, your tail was fluffy (or as fluffy as it could be, soaked with water), originating from a spot on your lower back. 

A tail. You had a fucking tail. 

Feeling overwhelmed and shaken, but ultimately fine, you brought your knees up to your chest again. This time you didn’t flinch when your tail curled around your legs. It was weird, getting used to a limb that you didn’t have before. But the movement came naturally, like it was always there to begin with. 

What were you going to do now? Returning to Vox wasn’t an option. After everything he put you through, you weren’t thrilled to return. Plus leaving you to die for the exterminators didn’t give you the impression that he cared about you.

Staying in the city was a bad idea as well. Even though your appearance had drastically changed, one of Vox’s lackeys was _bound_ to notice you if you stayed. On the off chance that Vox _wasn’t_ aware of your survival, you needed to fly under the radar.

Heading out of the city was the safest bet. 

You briefly considered returning to your apartment to collect your belongings but decided against it. There was nothing of importance there. 

You felt down your body quickly, before realizing looking for your phone was pointless - you didn’t have anywhere to hide it. Good. Vox wouldn’t be able to track you that way.

Was there anything else you should do before you left, anyone to say goodbye to? Hard no for Velvet, you settled things with Cheri, Baxter probably forgot about you, Alastor was long gone, and Angel-

Angel. Your heart clenched. You didn’t get to properly apologize to him, just some choked out words on live television. And now, you’d probably never get to. 

Maybe that was your punishment for the rest of eternity. If so, it was one you’d carry with you forever. 

Getting to your feet, you began your long walk. 

Out of the city. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is going to be a long endnote, buckle up)  
> And with that, we come to the end of the first act!  
> There's so many new aspects following this chaper. The reader is dead and a raccon, or part raccoon.  
> They're no longer working for Vox, but their deal is still in tack, they're free to explore Hell.  
> And that convo with vox and Val, What's that TV got cooking in his mind? It's all so exciting, I can't wait to get to it!
> 
> Also! This week this fic got it's first piece of fanart!!! It's so *so* very lovely, the artist did an amazing job!! <3  
> You can find the link to that here:  
> https://plohphue.tumblr.com/post/626075970569371648/for-comfeyworks-because-your-work-in-ao3-is
> 
> (BTW, you are all free to make whatever reader/self-inset you want for this fic! It doesn't have to follow this same design. Even with the reader being a racoon and their canocial elements, (tail, ears, etc) design and create whatever you like, lovelies!)
> 
> On another more somber note, I'll be taking a break to plan out the rest of the fic and to give myself some time to relax from writing so much (I've been writing almost every day since starting this in May)
> 
> I don't know how long the break is going to be, but in the meantime, I'll be posting a few short chapters that provide more information to the story! Some of them help provide more information to act one and some of them help guide the story to the next act. 
> 
> I wanted to put a final scene with Alastor and some of the other characters in this chapter, but it just never fit anywhere. But! the first interlude-chapter-thingy will have more closeure about that :p
> 
> And on a final note: What can you expect in act 2? A lot of Alastor! (Like, A. LOT) plus the introduction to two lovely ladies who's names begin with M & R ;)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading/ following this story thus far! <3 
> 
> twitter/tumblr: @comfeyworks


	14. Interlude one - Vox's Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Ana for proof-reading this chapter!

_ In a dark room lies a grand shelf of books. Each novel is pressed so tightly together that removing a single book would require a heavy set of pliers.  _

_ If the walls could talk, they would say how one soul only comes into the room. He comes in, finds what he wants, and leaves. He doesn’t need a light to see, for the blue light he emits from his screen is enough to make the eyes on the furniture and walls shriek and turn away from him.  _

_ On one of the open desks lies a torn journal, one not from the man but from countless others long before him, stitched together with inconspicuous leather. Three pages lie face up. _

_ The first is titled ‘AMPLIFIER’ and has a sketchy drawing of a concave disk in the top left corner. The text reads:  _

AMPLIFIER

  * A metal disk that increases communication power for a single demon of high prowess. One disk allows for extended communication within 3 surrounding circles of the user. 
  * The disks can be stacked for increased range and connectivity. Ex: 1 disk = 3 circles, 2 disks = 6 circles, etc.
  * More than 3 disks can be stacked, but the power or range does not increase after 3.
  * They can be found in the rings of violence and pride, given out by the representative of the ancient ones.



_ The second page is in a different handwriting than the first. It’s titled ‘Minimizer’ _

Minimizer: A small box that suppresses the power of magic-using demons. It works on anything that comes within a 10-meter radius of the box. 

Location: Rings of sloth and gluttony. 

Pros: Magic of high-levelled demons is suppressed. Boxes are very durable and strong. 

Cons: Only works for magic, not physical strength. Minimizers can only suppress a certain amount of power. Only works if the target is within range, their power returns the second they are out of range of the minimizer or if the minimizer is destroyed

* **Note** *: A representative of the ancient ones need to craft the minimizers for a soul they deem worthy. 

_ The third page seems to have been burned by electricity. There are black streaks that spider across the page and it’s impossible to make anything out other than a few words.  _

Rem...soul...dens...power…

Location: TREACHERY.

_ There’s room for more pages in the book, but they’ve been torn out, either in anger or in haste.  _

_ In a completely different section of the library, there’s a work section. A sturdy metal desk is covered with piles of paper and notes. One folder on the desk is stamped ‘IMPORTANT!!!’  _

_ There’s one page that sticks out from the file, written in Vox’s handwriting.  _

SOLDER

*A play on the term ‘solder’, an alloy used to fuse two metals together.* 

Living beings who have electrical and metal parts inserted and attached to segments of their body, either bit by bit, or all at once. The metal consumes the organic matter of its host until it is entirely a machine with the rotting husk of skin and tissue. 

Side effects and issues associated with the ‘soldering process’: 

  * Pain (Ranging from low to high)
  * Muscle spasms 
  * Loss of bodily functions and senses (Smell, taste, touch, etc.)
  * Physical feeling of unease
  * Restlessness
  * Nausea
  * Rejection of the metal parts by the human body, resulting in that limb/ part of the body becoming dead and unusable. 
  * Total organ failure
  * Seizures 



*Note: This procedure is VERY risky and almost always results in the end of the living being’s death.*

_ At the bottom of the page is a note written in red. The ink is fresh on the page.  _

Status: Discontinued. Soldering is counterproductive. BUT the information gained from the solder experiments has provided a lot of information for project CHIP.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter and different than the rest, it's purely just to show you guys the notes/ information I came up with for some of the ancient relics and solders (plus, there's some hints of what's to come in the future!) 
> 
> I said this was gonna come out Friday, then Saturday, and now it's back to Friday. This week has been super busy and stressful and things just kept changing. Life is a party and I am a pinata. 
> 
> ...on a happier note, this fic has reached over 500 kudos! Wow! I can't thank you all enough!  
> And, we also got another beautiful piece of fanart!!! <3 I love it so much!
> 
> https://comfeyworks.tumblr.com/post/626819209939353600/gahh-i-love-this-so-much-the-first-one-with
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you all have a good week/ day.
> 
> twitter/tumblr: @ comfeyworks


	15. Interlude two - Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See everyone's reactions to your death, from their point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Ana for proofreading and giving advice for this chapter!

_In a seedy part of town, in a rundown casino…_

Husk snorted, waking up with his face flat against the wooden counter of the bar. A puddle of drool had formed between his cheek and the bar, soaking the side of his face. 

He lifted his head and groaned, pain hammering through his skull like a jackhammer. Fuck, he felt like shit. How much did he have to drink earlier? Too much.

He couldn’t even remember what he was doing before he passed out. His memories were hazy, like a cauldron of muddy soup

Feeling gross and hung-over, he blindly reached out for his bottle. When his paws swiped at nothing but air, he growled and looked around him. The tables and chairs around the casino were empty and upturned, broken glass and garbage littered the floor.

“The fuck?”

“Welcome back to the world of the un-living.”

Husk whipped his head around. The barkeep was standing by a row of glasses, polishing them unenthusiastically.

“The fuck is everyone?” Husk asked. 

“Gone. Extermination starts soon.”

That would explain it. Husk scratched his chin and let out an uncontained yawn. He was past the point of caring about his safety.

Besides, that radio bastard wouldn’t let him die even if he wanted to. 

“Hit me, would ya?” he said.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.”

As the barkeep rummaged around for his drink, Husk turned his attention towards the TV in the corner of the bar. A show was playing on it, but the volume was turned down.

“Hey, where’s the remote for this thing?” He asked. 

“Behind the bar, third shelf to the left.”

Husk reached over the counter and pawed for the remote. He grabbed it and pressed the volume button. Sound crackled from the old, rotten speakers.

“-to you live from Pentagram City with an extra special episode of Trivia Torture!”

Husk’s claws tightened around the remote and his lips curled into a hiss as he recognized the host.

Vox.

That TV bastard who had beef with the radio prick. Though logically Husk should have liked Vox – the man disliked Al’s guts as much if not more than Husk did - his shit-eating-grin only made Husk hate him more.

He’d met Vox many times before, but the worst experience he had with the guy was during their first meeting.

Back when Alastor and Vox had their first and last turf war.

That had been back in…oh what was it… fifty-five? Sixty-five? (Shit, he actually couldn’t remember). Whatever, one of those years, he’d met Vox – on the battlefield.

He didn’t remember much, most of his memory from that fight was blacked out with years of alcohol abuse. What little he did remember was in fragments, fractured portions that were frozen in time.

He remembered fire, lots of it. Alastor, tall and stick-like with jagged teeth and claws. Strewn corpses on the dirt. Alastor’s red eyes, like headlights glowing in the dark. Crumbled brick and rubble. The dolls and shadows prancing at Alastor’s feet. Blood, red and black. Some dried but most fresh. And the smell, gah, the smell was awful. But what was worse was the noise – Alastor’s radio screeched and crackled bloody murder while he rampaged.

And Vox…

He remembered Blue streaks of light crackling from his palms, his wheezy cackle, an neon smile splitting his face in two, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and eye.

Husk pressed the remote, but the TV remained on the same channel. He growled, mashing the button with his thumb. Nothing.

“Stupid fuckin’ remote.” He cursed at it.

“Triva Torture is a game of questions and fighting-”

He tried hitting the power button this time– still nothing.

“-The contestant will answer a question that will be followed by a fighting phase.”

Fuck, was he really gonna have to sit here and listen to this bastard talk for the next hour? What he was even doing, hosting a show when the extermination was so close?

Husk chucked the remote at the wall in frustration. It cracked against the smoke-stained plaster and clattered to the floor. He glumly rested his head in his hand, listening to Vox prattle on. The barkeep finally returned with his drink, sliding it across the bar to him.

Husk took a long swig, and nearly spat it out when the camera panned to the contestant.

Pale, sweating, looking at the camera like a deer-in-headlights – stood the kid, stood you.

The same one who’d pestered him with that damn letter.

The same one Alastor requested he watch over a few weeks back.

He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably. His hand flexed around the bottle in hand.

Gods fucking damn it.

“Oh kid,” he groaned, burying his face in his hand, rubbing at it tiredly. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“Are you ready? Then let’s begin!”

* * *

_In the ‘VIP’ section of Porn Studios…_

Angel Dust hated the eve of the extermination.

Two years back, Val had asked him to work an extra shift on the eve. Nothing major, he just had to sit pretty for the studio’s best-paying customers, keep them company for the extermination. That was it.

Now it was a yearly thing.

A clammy hand slid against his thigh. Angel jerked back to reality. 

“Angel cakes, grab me a beer, won’t you?” A greasy-haired demon gurgled in his ear. 

Angel was sitting on a couch, (well, technically in the demon’s lap) with a bunch of other patrons and workers. The man’s hands and eyes raked over his entire body, dressed scarcely in only a tight skirt. His breath was horrid and smelled like tooth decay.

Angel put on his best smile, fluttering his lashes down at the customer.

“Sure thing handsome,” he purred. The demon’s arm unraveled itself from his waist, letting Ange stand up. As he did, he felt a sharp slap on his rear. The entire couch hooted and jeered.

Angel smiled weakly, gritting his teeth. Fuckin’ dogs, all of them.

But, he couldn’t get mad at any of them. Val would flay him alive if he did that. And god knows that he didn’t need another reason for Val to make him work overtime.

Shoving down his emotions, he pushed past the crowded tables and sofas, swooping under waiter’s arms and greeting those whenever he recognized them. 

This place used to thrill him, to excite him. In the early days of working, oh, they were heavenly! He’d love nothing more than to lose himself at a party, drowning himself in hands, drugs, dicks, and much more.

But now, the event had lost its appeal. Getting buzzed never gave him the same high. Having dicks shoved in him or at him wasn’t fun, it was a chore. Being forced into too-short-too-tight outfits wasn’t liberating, it made him feel helpless, exposed.

And entertaining these greasy fuckers? It sucked. Literally and figuratively.

“Give me a couple’ o bears for the table, would ya?” Angel requested once he arrived at the bar. 

As the bartender gathered his drinks, Angel took a much needed seat on one of the stools, resting his aching feet. He loved his shoes, but fuck, did they ever made his feet hurt. He refused to take them off, but he undid the laces, flexing his toes and feeling the blood rush through them again.

While waiting, Angel’s attention was drawn to a small television in the corner of the bar. He did a double-take at the image on the screen.

You. Bloody, panting, looking like you’d been run over by a truck.

Time seemed to stop for Angel.

The first emotion he felt was shock. You were on TV during the eve of the extermination, covered in blood and cradling what speared to be a broken arm. But that shock quickly turned into anger. Because you were on TV, and the last time he’d seen you, it had been at the club where you punched him in the face.

Ever since then, you hadn’t reached out to him. You didn’t drop by the studio, you didn’t call him, you didn’t even bother sending him a text.

(And even if he wouldn’t have responded or spoken to you if you did try and talk to him, the point was you never made an effort. )

Apparently, going in live TV was more important than having a fucking conversation with him. 

So after all that, fighting Cheri, saying he ‘whored himself out for money’, punching him at the club, yeah! He had a right to be pissed!

Which brought him to his third emotion, confusion. Why were you on TV?

“Hey, uh, what’s the name of the show that’s on?” he asked the demon beside him.

The man looked at him, spending a bit too much time staring at his chest before he brought his eyes back up. “Vox’s Triva Torture. It’s a really popular show, you don’t know it?”

Vox’s Trivia Torture? Vox as in big boy Overlord Vox? Your boss, Vox?

“Nah, I ain’t heard of it. What’s it, about?”

“Just watch.”

Angel looked up to see an axe fly across the screen, sinking deep into your shoulder.

A scream was ripped from his throat.

“Toots!?” he yelled, even though you couldn’t hear him.

The camera cut to a new angle as you fell on your back, and to a different one when Velvet pulled the axe from your shoulder. Your face contorted, eyes squeezed together tightly, chest heaving with exhaustion. The studio audience cheered and clapped, and that’s when it clicked for Angel.

 _Trivia Torture._ You were being tortured for fucking entertainment. 

Fourth emotion: Fear. 

His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he moved closer to the TV, pushing people aside to get a better look. His drinks were ready, but he didn’t care.

“Toots!” he screamed again, startling half the bar.

What the hell was going on? Vox was your boss, why would he do this to you?

Unless

“Any final words?” A voice said from off screen. Angel recognized it as Vox, anger briefly flooded through him. That fucking _bastard_.

“Get up! What are you doing?!” He yelled out loud.

With a great amount of struggle, Angel watched as you dragged yourself to your elbows, staring straight ahead into a camera. As it zoomed in on you, he realized just how hurt you were.

Your hair was tangled and matted, thinning around your scalp. Your skin had taken on a sick yellow-ish hue, making the speckles of dried blood stand out further. And your eyes, ones that once sparked icily like two dark chasms were now hollow and shrunken in, fatigue evident in the way your eyelids drooped.

So much of you had changed in such a short amount of time. Angel doubted all of this could have been done in the span of one program.

Which made him wonder, how long had you been suffering for?

_Fuck._

Angel felt his throat tighten painfully as your eyes met. Even though it was through a screen, it felt like you were inches away from him. He reached out, as if to take hold of you.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” you croaked.

The world came to a stop yet again.

He clenched his hands into fists. Sorry? _SORRY?!_ The fuck did you mean ‘SORRY’?!

“Don’t you start with that shit now!” he cried. He probably looked insane, yelling at a fucking TV. “If you’re really sorry, drag your ass back up and say those words to my face!”

His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, tears pricking at his eyes. He blinked them away. After everything that happened, you were just going to die like that? He wouldn’t accept it.

“ _Don’t you dare leave me now!!!_ ”

Only when Velvet lifted the axe above her head did his voice become desperate.

“ _Toots, please!_ ”

Oh fuck. What a selfish fucking bastard he was, asking you to escape death so he could feel alright.

In the future, he’d find the time to hate himself for it, but right now all that went through his mind was the realization that this was the end for you.

When Velvet brought the axe down, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. The loud crack your skull made and the wet wounds of blood and tissue being cut would haunt his dreams for months. 

“Aw Jesus – FUCK!”

He kept them close for ten seconds.

When he opened them again, you were gone. All that was left was the streaks of blood on the floor.

Fuck.

He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, weakening him at the knees. His hands went limp at his sides, shaking uncontrollably.

“Uh, you alright?” Angel snapped his head up. The bartender was regarding him warily.

“…fine, I’m…fine.” He mumbled. “Jus’ gotta...head out for a smoke.”

He pushed past people again, numbly, pushing away hands and ignoring voices calling out to him. He saw himself walking, saw the floor change from pink carpets to cracked linoleum, but it didn’t feel himself move. It was like he was watching someone use his own body.

In the bathroom, he leaned against the counter, hands scrabbling in his pockets for a cigarette. There was a mirror in front of him, in it he saw his reflection, pale and sweating.

He pulled out a lighter and held it to the cigarette. His hands were shaking so much the damn thing didn’t light. Whatever patience he had ran thin.

“Fucking forget it!” he threw both the lighter and the cigarette to the ground.

Fuck it all, _fuck it all!_

He burst open an empty stall door, locked it, and sat his ass on the cold toilet seat. Inhaling deeply, he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at tangled knots.

 _Calm down._ He said to himself. _Calm the fuck down._

But he couldn’t, not after witnessing his friend get mutilated on live television while he stood and watched. 

He leaned onto his knees, hanging his head down. Friend? Could he even consider you his friend?

You hurt Cheri. You said you’d do anything Vox told you to, even if it meant killing Angel. You said some pretty fucked up shit to him. You’d broken his trust, hurt his feelings, and got into a fistfight with him.

After all that, were you still considered his friend? 

_What about that time on the ship?_ A part of him thought.

He raised his head. The cruise ship? Oh yeah, that tinky boat vacation Val asked him to come on. Val had signed him up to go out on the sea (something he knew Angel would hate), and you stepped in to take his place, no questions asked.

He ran a hand through his hair, slower this time, closing his eyes.

You hurt Cheri. _Because it was part of your job._

Would he have cared if it was anyone but Cheri? He didn’t care for anyone else you hurt in the past. The only reason he got so worked up was because it had affected someone close to him.

He licked his lips, and kept going.

You said you’d do anything Vox told you to. _Because Vox owned your soul and you had to follow his orders._

You said some pretty fucked up shit to him. _That was bad, but you were upset and not thinking straight when you said those things_

You’d broken his trust, hurt his feelings, and got into a fistfight with them. _He wasn’t a saint to you either._

He punched you outside Cheri’s apartment. He called you some nasty names, he said some pretty fucked up things to you, too.

Did that forgive you of what you did? No. But could he sympathize with you more, after your boss just practically executed you?

Yeah. He could.

His hands rested on his thighs. The fact was – he wanted the two of you to be friends. He didn’t have many people who cared about him, (cared about him legitimately, at least) and he held onto those that did like gold.

He wanted to apologize to you. He wanted you to apologize to each other.

And that’s when he realized another thing – apologies were a two way street.

You didn’t reach out to him, but why didn’t he reach out to _you?_

Guilt gnawed at his stomach. This whole time, he’d been thinking only about himself. While he was complaining and being pissy about you not calling him, what was happening to you? What _could_ have happened that he didn’t know about?

Angel felt something wet on his cheek.

Maybe he could have reached out, offered support instead of anger, or at least he could have tried harder, instead of being so hell-bent on being upset. Then maybe the two of you would have grabbed something to eat at a restaurant. Or maybe you'd go shopping, watch a movie, hit up another club (this time without the fighting).

He rubbed his eyes, but the tears kept coming.

He wanted to start over. He wanted to drink with you, or go on a road-trip whenever the two of you got time off. Maybe see what life was like outside the city.

Except one thing – you were dead.

Angel’s chest tightened. His breath hitched in his throat. 

Some lousy ‘friend’ he was.

Angel curled his limbs close to his body, and let himself cry. 

* * *

_In the gothic quarter of Pentagram city, in a mad scientist’s tower…_

Baxter was reluctant to let this random girl into his laboratory, and now, as she hopped about like an excited puppy (trying to learn the difference between potassium and phosphorus, Lucifer help him), he felt more exhausted than he had been in decades.

Everything about her was so…unusual. From her short crop top to her wild, unkempt hair. She was so different from Baxter’s norms. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have let her get past the doorway.

But, the letter she brought with her had swayed his decision; A request from Vox’s servant.

He rapped his fingers against the table, staring at the letter. Since their last meeting, the servant hadn’t showed up at all. Nothing. Not a word.

And now, out of nowhere, they’re expecting him to teach his girl? Because he ‘owes’ them?

He was never one for socializing, much less being a teacher. Plus, the girl wasn’t even approved by Velvet to be here.

His finger’s halted their movements. He’d have to kick her out, he decided with finality. There was just no other reasonable justification for letting her stay.

The sound of glass shattering made him whip around. Cheri was frozen in place, a broken glass bottle on the floor, shards of glass scattered everywhere.

“What did you do?!” he screeched, rushing over to the disaster.

“Nothing, I swear! It just shattered on its own!”

Oh yeah, like that happened.

“You,” he pointed to the corner of the room. “Over there. Don’t touch anything.” Cheri groaned, but complied with his demands. 

Baxter scowled, picking up the shards of glass from the floor. The paper label on the bottle was the only thing that remained intact. He flipped it over and read it.

A crease formed between his brows. He frowned. 

It was an energy elixir. The same one that the servant had drank way back when.

Why had it broken? The glass was tempered and resistant to breaking. So the fact that it was broken meant-

He paled. No. No, he was a man of science, and would not amuse such superstitious thoughts.

He’d clean up the mess. Then he’d send Cheri on her way back home. Things would go back to normal and he wouldn’t think about the hastily written letter any further.

He ran his tongue over his parched lip. His hands flexed.

“…Cheri?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a s-spare lab-coat on the chair to your left. I h-highly suggest you put it on b-before we start.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement and she rushed over to put on the coat.

Baxter gazed at the letter on the table.

“One exception,” he whispered.

He dumped the pieces of glass into a trash bin, not wanting to think any more of what caused it to break.

* * *

_In ???..._

Alastor stood on top of the highest building in Pentagram City, overlooking the entire circle. Wind whipped at the flaps of his coat and tousled his hair from side to side.

The extermination had just finished, sending sections of the city into complete chaos. In some of the districts, war was being waged. Fires sprung to life, explosions erupted and shook the ground, screams cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard. Demons were already tearing each other apart before the sun had risen.

It amused Alastor, but only a little.

In his coat pocket laid the stolen envelope from Vox’s office. The red and pink paper burned against his skin, vibrating in delight. It pressed as tightly as it could to his body, almost hugging him.

He pressed a hand to it.

“Rest, little darling,” he cooed. “You’re home.”

As if listening to him, the pressure on his chest eased up, the letter settling peacefully against his side. 

Alastor sighed and removed his hand, relieved to finally have his precious possession back. But, even so, he couldn’t relax.

This wasn’t over. It was far from over.

Alastor didn’t flinch as a set of hands came down on his shoulder. His shadow leaned over on one side, smirking at him.

This is far from over. It repeated to him – he repeated to himself.

Alastor knew Vox was like a snake. No matter how many times he slashed him in half, Vox would continue to slither and connive until he was dead.

Everything that he and the assistant did at the skytree only delayed the inevitable. Alastor was sure of it. But that didn’t mean he’d roll over like a dog and accept defeat.

Speaking of the assistant… Alastor still couldn’t get over their last meeting. Or should he say, last goodbyes.

Earlier in the day, before the clock hit midnight and the heavens opened up in the sky, he had been roaming the alleyways of the city. His shoes clacked against the cobble, recovering from the frazzled state the assistant put him in. 

He felt conflicted. 

On one hand, he didn’t understand _why_ they refused to follow through with their end of the deal. Especially since they would have everything to gain from escaping the city. 

On the other hand, he respected their resolve to face the consequences, to face their death with a brave face. 

It reminded Alastor of himself back when he was a mortal, how he didn’t run away from his sins either.

A sudden petrifying shriek pulled him from his rumination. 

“ _Alastor_!”

He skidded to a halt, static thickening around him, blood rushing in his veins. It was _your_ scream.

He’d heard that lovely voice of yours cry out in pain multiple times, yet this one felt different. Maybe it was just hearing his name on your tongue, tone sounding so distressed, but it made a sense of urgency overtake him. 

His ears twitched, seeking out the voice’s origin. One of the benefits of an otherwise unfavorable form was that certain senses were heightened, hearing being one of them.

He followed the sound of agony, sneaking through the shadows to save him time. In his haste, he nearly ran past the _Radio Hack_ store. 

He stopped right in front of a large screen TV, recognizing the two on it instantly. 

Vox had his foot against your chest, grinding you to the ground. You were beat up - more than you were when Alastor parted ways with you earlier in the day - body bloody and broken. 

Alastor ground his teeth together while the shadows warped at his feet, hissing quietly. 

“ _-nothing but worms beneath my feet._ ” Vox spat. Alastor resisted the urge to laugh. Vox sounded like a little kid, trying to act tougher than he actually was. But he wasn’t shocked by it. He expected that of Vox, he expected the gloating and the degradation to boost his own ego.

No, it was your next words that shocked him. 

“ _Don’t fool yourself Vox,_ ” you croaked, glaring up at him without a sliver of fear in your eyes. “ _Alastor is and always will be twice the man you are._ ”

For a few seconds, Alastor stood still, processing what you had just said. He sucked in deep breath after deep breath, hands twitching to move. 

Oh, _oh_ . You had _guts._ And though Alastor already knew that, it still made warmth tingle in his stomach.

The pleasant feelings Alastor had were quickly snuffed out as Vox kicked you across the face. Alastor exhaled through his nose. Vox always did have such a brute-force way of doing things. He was _lucky_ Alastor wasn’t closer to the studio. 

“ _So why don’t you go there?_ ” his darker side whispered to him. “ _Tear everything apart. Put Vox in his place. Show him you’re stronger than him by taking his assistant._ ”

He considered the thought. While he very well could do that - why would he? There was no obligation for him to protect the assistant in their deal. That meant going to rescue them would be because he cared for them. 

_Ha ha ha!_ How humorous! Caring for something other than himself? 

“Then if you really don’t care, you won’t mind watching them die?”

He cleared his throat, brushed his hair, adjusted his monocle,and pressed his suit down. 

No, he wouldn’t - _won’t_ mind watching you die. He’d watch Vox torture and toy with you till the very end. 

And watch it to the very end he had. 

He watched as Velvet came onto the screen, watched her sink the axe into your body, watched you as you breathed your final words, watched as you gave your final breath, watched as your body was dragged offstage, leaving streaks of blood in your wake. 

He watched it all with a smile on his face and a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Once it was all done he didn’t feel anything. 

Why _didn’t he feel anything?_ That type of carnage was the stuff he lived for. It was what he sought out, what he _craved._ Yet here he was, feeling less than satisfied with what he had just witnessed - HIM!

He couldn’t figure his own emotions out. They perplexed him. And so, as the extermination started, he teleported back to his safehouse on the edge of the circle, where he spent the hour pacing the floors and _tap tap tapping_ his microphone. 

Even that, however, didn’t satisfy him, so he’d gone for a _small_ walk. 

And now, he stood at the top of the bottom of the world, wondering about the assistant's fate. 

The assistant perished at Vox's hand. They had died. Alastor _watched_ them die. 

The question then was - were they alive for a second time? If they were...

“ _What do we do?_ ” his other half - his shadow asked himself.

“What do we do?” he repeated out loud. “You mean what _are_ we going to do.”

He gazed over the city, the sick, twisted, vile city that housed equally vile people.

“We are going to war.”

  
  


.

..

…

  
  


_In...heaven...???_

An angel looked down at the world below on their hands and knees, staring at the busy, fume-emitting Pentagram City. 

They clasped their hands together. To those around the angel, it would look like they were deep in prayer. Which they were, partly. 

Praying the human they chose would be able to make use of their gift. 

The angel took pity on them, a poor, _poor_ human killed in Hell. Alone and cold with no one else around them. The archangels didn’t even _consider_ letting the human into heaven. 

It was so sad, as a first-time exterminator, the angel couldn’t stand by and let it happen. 

So, they did the only thing they could. 

Would the angel get in trouble for it? Probably. But they couldn't just stand by and do nothing! Even if they saved someone 'unsavable' by the rest of heaven. 

Still, the thought of punishment weighed heavily on the angel’s mind. 

The Angel heard someone call their name. They stood up, brushing their robe clean. 

They gazed one final time at the Circle of Pride, before spreading their wings, and taking off to join with the rest of their brethren. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write! Alastor's and Angel's gave me a bit of trouble (Alastor especially, the brat.) but in the end, I think it turned out ok.
> 
> Oh, and, in case you didn't get Baxter's part - it's a common trope where an object breaks, symbolizing something happened to a particular person. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> twitter/tumblr: @comfeyworks


	16. Interlude three - Newspapers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra extra, read all about it!

Over the next week, the Pentagram City Press, a newspaper business, released two articles.

The first one goes as follows.

##  **PENTAGRAM CITY PRESS**

“TO WAR???”

By: Sage Silvertooth

As the yearly extermination draws to a close, those celebrating the New Year woke to a shock when Alastor, the Radio Demon, declared war on Vox, the TV Demon. 

The last time the two fought in a turf war was back in _The Battle of 65’_ , where almost all of Hell was consumed by the two Overlord’s rampaging.

What does this mean for the denizens of Hell? How long will this war last? And maybe most importantly, what prompted this?

Some speculate the declaration had to do with Vox’s recent announcement at The Convention of Overlords, wherein he stated that he was unifying Hell’s electricity and media under his business. 

While Vox had indented to set his plans in motion after this year’s extermination, he’s stated that there has been an ‘ _unforeseeable delay’_ and that the plans will need to be re-thought. An anonymous source has suggested that this ‘delay’ was the result of the Radio Demon sabotaging Vox’s plans in some way.

We asked Vox for his response on Alastor’s declaration of war and this is what he said:

_“I assure everyone, including the King himself, that this is only a temporary setback. Alastor’s threat doesn’t scare me at all. 3V Media will unify Hell’s power and media. That isn’t a promise, it’s a fact!”_

Alastor had refused to comment on his decision, and has eaten the arm of one of our reporters when asked for an interview.

The second one, released a few days after the first, goes as follows.

##  **PENTAGRAM CITY PRESS**

_A Brief History of the Radio Demon and TV Demon_

You know the story about the _Alastor, the_ _Radio Demon_. How he arrived in 1933 and began slaughtering powerful Overlords and weak demons alike. Gifted with an immeasurable amount of power, he broadcasted his killings in each circle, working his way through all nine of them.

He showed Hell what he could do; He fought, he conquered, he devoured, he killed.

Alastor built up a name and reputation for himself. One that keeps those ‘BEWARE’ posters up in the alleyways, one that to this day, has Wonderland quaking with delight every time his name is mentioned.

Some hated him, others loved him, most feared him.

Whatever people thought of him, one thing was clear: Alastor was powerful, and someone who got what he wanted.

For a few decades, he remained on top. For a few decades, he quenched his most vile desires and sinned far beyond anything he ever did as a mortal.

Then came the 1950’s.

Poof! One day, a man who now goes by the name _Vox_ appeared in Hell. He wasn’t gifted like Alastor was. With nothing but the dense-square television on his head, he learned how to survive in Hell.

It’s said he met _Velvet_ sometime during his first ten years. The two became fast friends, working together under a common goal:

To make their way to the top.

Vox dealt with the business side of things, selling goods, supplying weapons, making deals and tradeoffs. Velvet dealt with the social side, using blackmail, sabotaging rival companies, ruining their enemies’ social reputations.

They slowly gained power. But it was far from what they dreamt.

Vox wanted more. He wanted to get into the _media_ , something locked away by large companies. 

So, Vox did what he had to do. He made a deal with Alastor.

Why the Radio Demon, you may ask? Because those companies in charge of Television and other forms of entertainment were subsequently under Alastor’s control. 

(Well, it was more like those companies were _scared_ of Alastor. Alastor didn’t care much for anything other than the Radio, he owned them because he didn’t want others to further the technology in the entertainment industry.)

What the deal was about is unknown, but one thing is certain: The deal backfired for Alastor.

Vox emerged with a foothold in media. Using that foothold, he was able to branch off into different strands of Media - advertising, television, entertainment, and more.

Making a deal with Alastor and coming out with a positive outcome was unheard of before. It shocked many, leading them to wonder: How did things turn out so horribly for Alastor? What did Vox do to gain so much from the man? The answer is simple.

Alastor underestimated Vox, and that small slip up cost him a _lot_.

Needless to say, Alastor didn’t take losing very lightly.

What followed is now known as the battle of 65’. A huge turf war was fought between Alastor and Vox. A bloody, violent war that lasted two decades.

While Vox was powerful, he began to slip. As the years passed, Alastor’s fights and battles pushed Vox back further and further. If things had continued as they were, Vox would have surely lost everything. 

Fortunately during that time, in the 1970’s, a man who is now known as _Valentino_ dropped into Hell. The moth-demon was gifted power when spanned, and quickly gained a troop of sluts for his business.

He met with Velvet and Vox shortly after falling into Hell. The three bonded very quickly, and established their joint _3V Company_.

The last and final piece of the puzzle came into place. Valentino gave much more business and opportunities for Vox and Velvet to explore, dealing with drug trades, production of pornography, prostitution, and demon trafficking. 

With Valentino's connections, Vox was able to start pushing the Radio Demon back.

There was, however, a limit to this. At a certain point, the two became evenly matched, fighting back and forth, both gaining nothing and losing nothing. The war slid into a boring stalemate, one that last five long years. 

Finally, on a cold winter’s night in 1985, Alastor and Vox agreed to put down their arms to talk things out.

They bargained, haggled, and argued for the better half of a month over property, resources, and more, but they eventually came to a compromise.

Vox got most of what he wanted, and so did Alastor.

…key word being _most_.

Over the years, the two continued to quarrel back and forth. They took property from each other. They conquered, lost what they conquered, and reclaimed it over and over - for _decades_.

They never engaged in another all-out-war since that time, not until not.

Now, with more than half a century of rivalry built up, Alastor has once again raised his arms against Vox.

While the Pentagram Press refuses to take a stance on the matter, one of their sponsors, or should I say, _I,_ the writer of this article _,_ will not.

To Alastor, if you are reading this, I have something I’d like to tell you:

Bring on war, we both know who won last time.

\- _Vox_.  
 _Kingpin of media, head of electricity and telecommunication services in Hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably just me, but Vox saying 'Bring on war, we both know who won last time' gives me the chills. 
> 
> Anwyays! Short chapter this week, sorry. Next week I'll have something more exciting and bulkier. This past week has been tough for me mentally, but I'm hanging in there.   
> School is starting up for me in a week, so updates will probably be slower after that.  
> Regardless, thank you all for reading!
> 
> twitter/tumblr: Comfeyworks


	17. Interlude four - Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader didn't always hate Vox. In fact, they were quite close with him at one point...
> 
> A chapter that looks into their past, take a look at the years long before they encountered Alastor, before it all went to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual content only suitable for readers 18+ Read at your own risk.

It was hot. So hot.

It felt like there was a metal poker in your stomach, one that was being twirled slowly, making your abdomen twitch with need.

The feeling wasn’t painful, but it certainly was uncomfortable.

Your muscles rippled like water as his smooth hands ran along your legs, your thighs, and up your sides. Your breath hitched in your throat as he neared your breasts, only to glide his hands back down.

You had clothes on,  _ barely _ , only dressed in a thin shirt and a pair of shorts. There’s nothing else to separate your scorching skin from his chilly touches.

You felt an icy hand on your cheek and shivered.

“ _ Shh _ ,” Vox all but purred, slowly stroking the side of your face. “Relax.”

Relaxing was impossible when your body ached with the need to be filled. The blindfold tied around your eyes didn’t help either. With the loss of sight, all your other senses were heightened.

His hand retreated from your cheek. Within a few seconds, you felt both of them on your hips. You inhaled sharply.

“I said  _ relax _ ,” he repeated firmly, gently.

He began rubbing hard, slow circles into your hip bone, drawing a sigh of pleasure from you. He hummed in approval at the sound.

With time, you relaxed fully into the bed below you, putty in his hands.

“Very good,” he praised once every ounce of tension had left your body. The smallest of whines escaped you at his words, certainly not unheard by the slight chuckle Vox gave back. 

His hands left your hips, traveling under your shirt and up the side of your ribs. They brushed the corner of your breasts and you instinctively tensed again.

Vox’s hands stopped, hovering achingly above skin.

“It’s ok,” you reassured him.

Hesitantly, carefully, he rested his hands firmly against your breasts, each nipple coming between his pointer and middle finger.

You expected him to squeeze them but instead he just held them there for a solid minute. You shifted impatiently.

“Vox?”

“Shh.”

You waited, feeling your chest warm. But you quickly realized you weren’t warm because of your body, but his hands. 

His hands were  _ heating _ up.

“Oh,  _ oh _ .” You groaned at the sensation. His heated finger brushed over your nub and pleasure jolted through your body. Vox toyed with your breasts, squeezing and rubbing and pinching them mercilessly, pulling groans and pleasured sighs from your body.

“Do you like that?” he asked. You just  _ knew _ he was smiling like a satisfied cat.

You nodded.

“Use your words.”

“I like it.”

“Like what?”

“L-like it when you touch me.” 

“Very good,” he praised. You keened at his words.

Pleasure turned to shock as icy fingers suddenly swept over your body, cooling what had just been hot moments ago. 

“T-that’s not fair,” you whined. He could cool his hands as well???

Within seconds, your entire body was shivering again, only to be replaced by the relief of his hot fingers. 

Hot, cold, hot, cold. He switched the temperature of his hands over and over, travelling up your shirt, around your neck, down to your thighs, and back up again. He never went where you ached for him to touch, just barely avoiding those delicate areas with controlled precision.

“You’re so cute,” he teased. “It’s so fun seeing your body react to my touch.”

“V-vox.” You huffed, voice shaking, “Please.”

“Please what?” he sang.

“T-touch me.” 

“But I am touching you, babydoll.” 

You huffed in frustration. “You know what I  _ mean _ . Touch me more.” 

“Hmm,” he flicked your nipple, and any snarkiness you had faded with a groan. “You’ll need to ask more politely than that.”

With a much softer and submissive voice, you asked him again. “Touch me, please Vox – master. Please?”

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

He bunched up the front of your shirt, pulling it up your body.

“Arms up.” He instructed. You lifted them, allowing Vox to remove your shirt entirely. Your cheeks flushed, chest being completely exposed to him. 

“If you want me to touch you,” he started. The sound of him unzipping his pants met your ears and your mouth watered. “You’ll have to work for it.”

There was a rustle, the sound of fabric being dropped to the ground. Your mind was going wild, trying to imagine what was happening, trying to imagine if Vox was naked, directly in front of you.

“So?” Vox asked. “Are you going to work for it?”

You had an idea of what ‘working for it’ would entail, this wasn’t your first time at the rodeo. Arousal curled in your stomach, lighting up the nerves there. 

“Yes sir.” You whispered.

“I didn’t hear that, speak up?”

“Yes sir! I’ll work for it.”

“Then  _ kneel _ .” he growled into your ear. 

You slid off the bed hastily, hitting your knees hard against the floor. Vox kept a hold on you just in case you happened to trip. 

You curled your hands into fists and rested them on your thighs, restless to get going. 

“Look at you,” he teased. “On your knees for me, waiting in anticipation, flushed from head to toe.”

Heat coiled in your stomach again, hips rocking involuntarily. His thumb shocked you as it ran over your lips, parting them and slipping into your mouth. 

“Open wide.” He demanded. You did so, groaning as Vox’s fingers toyed with your tongue, coating them with saliva. 

“Do you like this? Being at my mercy, mouth open to receive my cock?” he asked, spreading your legs apart with the tap of his foot. You could only groan in response. Vox laughed, pulling his hands out and wiping them clean on your chest. You kept your mouth open, even when drool escaped from the corners of your lips. 

“That’s what I like to see.” He hummed. His voice tightened for a second, slick wet sounds meeting your ears. Then one of his hands wrapped around your wrist and led it to his dick. His breath hitched in his throat as you wrapped your hand around it. 

“Well,” he breathed. “Come on then.  _ Suck me off. _ ”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue over his head. Vox sighed, hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Not exactly forcing you down on him, but persuading your mouth to take more of him, which you happily did. 

“Ah fuck – that’s it,” he cursed, grip on your hair tightening. You took more of him into your mouth, willing your muscles to relax as his dick went further down your throat. 

You rolled your tongue on the underside of his cock, bobbing your head entusuasically. Your hands pumped his shaft, covering what area you mouth couldn’t reach. Vox grunted softly in your ear, murmuring filthy words of praise to you as he stroked your hair. 

When you sucked on him hard, his hips jerked up unexpectedly, and you gagged as the end of his dick hit the back of your throat. You pulled off of him to cough and gulp down breaths of air. 

“Get back down there,” Vox commanded, forcing your head back down. “You’re not done.”

You groaned, taking him fully down your throat again. You still gagged, but this time you didn’t need to come up for a break. Vox groaned, both of his hands gripping your hair. 

“You love sucking on my cock, don’t you? You love - ah - love how it makes you gag.” he grunted. You responded by sucking on him harder, pushing your head up and down on him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, digging his hands into your scalp, forcefully pushing up up and down on his cock. You let him move your head as he pleased, hands falling to your side so he could be in control. 

He fucked your throat raw. The air filled with wet slapping sounds, your wet gags, and Vox’s ragged, feral breaths. 

“Hell, fuck, I’m close.” he croaked, digging his claws into your scalp. Your jaw ached terribly but you still kept at it, desperate to get him off. 

With a few, hard thrusts, he came into your throat, entire body shuddering from his orgasm. Your nose brushed against his abdomen as he spilled into your throat and mouth, held there by his firm hands. 

After his wave of pleasure passed over him, his grip on your hair lessened. He tugged your hair up and you released him from your mouth, gasping for breath. 

“Don’t swallow,” he slurred, tilting your head backwards. 

You kept whatever didn’t roll right down your throat in your mouth. His fingers fumbled around your lips, pulling your jaw open. You felt his come as it dripped down the sides of your chin and onto your chest. Vox wiped his hand over your chest, smearing the fluid all over your breasts. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, catching his breath. “I wish you could see yourself. You look so fucking hot covered in my come.” 

You shivered, thighs squeezing together at his words. 

“Since you were so good, I think you deserve to be rewarded. Would you like that, babydoll?”

You nodded vigorously. “Please, sir.”

“Come here, then.” Vox looped his arms under yours and dragged you back on the bed. He pressed a hand to your head, pushing it down towards the sheets.

“Ass in the air, lets go.”

You did as he ordered, feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. You pressed your head into the sheets, turning your face to the side so you could breath.

Vox ran his hands over the curve of your ass, up your back towards your neck, and back down your spine. He slid the palm of his hand between your clothed thighs and you  _ whimpered _ . 

“What a dirty little bitch you are,” he chuckled, still breathy and winded from his orgasm. “I can feel how wet you are through your clothes.”

You pressed your hips up against his, desperate for some more contact. Vox tutted at you and pulled away, drawing another wine from you.

“Greedy,” he chastised.

“Your fault,” you spat back.

He slapped you ass, pulling a yelp from your throat.

“A greedy brat that doesn’t know how to behave,” he tugged your shorts and underwear both down with one motion, pulling them down to your knees. “How about we fix that?”

Before giving you any time to respond, you felt something inside of you.

You made a noise like a dying animal being choked, gripping the sheets below you. 

“You can’t see anything, but that just means every other sense is heightened. So tell me,” he murmured, leaning over your body so he could whisper in your ear. “How many fingers do I have in you right now?”

Your face burned at his words. He was going to be the death of you. 

“One.” you answered one. Just a measly one. Enough to provide you with some form of stimulation, but not enough to offer you any form of relief. It wasn’t enough. 

“Correct.” He bit the cartilage of your ear. He pulled and pushed the single digit in and out of you slowly. 

Your inner walls clenched around him, whining in frustration when there was nothing more to grab. 

You moved your hips, trying to push his finger in deeper, but Vox only removed it entirely, making you cry out in despair.

“Hold still or I’ll tie you up and leave you here for the rest of the night.” he threatened. You knew he would do that too. One day, you’d tested his limits one too many times and so he’d tied you to a chair with a vibrator on the lowest setting and just left. 

He came back five hours later, and you were a wreck. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you held your hips deathly still. Vox inserted his finger again, and continued. 

...For five, maybe ten minutes, Vox continued his slow torture. Time and pleasure stretched agonizingly slow, like hot taffy being pulled. Your muscles clenched and shook with exertion, having to remain so still for so long. You dug your fingers into the bed, fisting the crumpled sheets in your hands. You bit your lip to stuffle the constant stream of groans coming from your lips - you were afraid if you were too loud, Vox would drag this on forever. 

When Vox finally spoke, you were on the verge of sobbing. “You’re holding up so well, you haven’t even begged me yet.” His finger pulled out almost entirely, moved around, and then shoved back in you sharply. You nearly choked at the rapid change in pace. 

“Now...how many fingers is that?”

You trembled, gulping down saliva that gathered in your mouth. “T-three.”

“Ooh, is that a stutter in your voice I hear? I like it.”

You buried your face in the sheets under you, face burning. 

Before you could simmer in your shame, however, Vox’s fingers moved inside of you. Fast and forceful, thrusting at a speed that stole the breath from your lungs. 

The change was so sudden, you moaned loudly, more bubbling in the first’s wake. He was so fast, so rough, your entire body felt like it was burning. 

Then he crooked his fingers upwards, and you saw stars. 

“F-fuck, Vox - ah!” you cried, a hot coil curling in your stomach. Your climax was close, if he just kept it up you might -

The second release even crossed your mind, Vox stopped abruptly.

You screamed. Full on screamed. 

_ ‘Bastard _ .’ you thought, with enough venom to kill him if he wasn’t already dead. 

‘ _ What can I say? _ ’ he thought back, absolutely not phased by your radiating malice. 

He pulled his fingers out and inserted them again, this time focusing more on pressing as deep as he could into you, nudging that sweet spot inside your body.

“How many?” he asked again.

“Two,” you whimpered.

He slowly pumped his fingers inside of you, stretching your insides. From the wet sounds coming from your body and the slick running between your thighs, you could only imagine how  _ soaked  _ his hand must be. 

He withdrew his hand, inserted his fingers again, and asked. “How many?”

“T-three.”

He repeated that process. In and out, slow and fast, questions and answers. You were going to die. A tear sprouted from your eye, soaking your blindfold. 

“Vox,” you begged, voice raw and desperate. “Please, please, please.”

“Come on now doll,” he cooed, slipping his fingers in and out of your body casually. “I can’t know what you want unless you ask.”

Screw your dignity, you lost that a long time ago. “Fuck me, fuck me!” 

“Naughty, naughty words coming from someone so…” he searched for a word. “..professional, as you.” he chuckled. “You want me to put my cock inside of you? You want me to stretch your insides with this cock - then beg me, bitch.”

Your walls clenched down at his filthy words. “Please fuck me Vox. Please, please, fuck me.”

You yelped as Vox suddenly flipped you over onto your back. He carelessly pulled your pants further down your legs, cursing when it caught around your foot.

You kicked your feet out, helping him get rid of your remaining clothes, he unhooked it from your foot and tossed it away. You heard it thump softly in the corner of the room. 

Vox spread your thighs and settled between them. You inhaled sharply as you felt his hard length lay against your stomach, wet and hard. He stretched your entrance one final time, and then pressed his dick against your opening. 

A heartbeat later, he entered you, and you gasped, hands shooting out to wrap around his neck.

For as much bravado he had put up earlier, Vox was careful as he entered you. He inched himself slowly into you, stopping when your nails dug too tightly into him and your breathing became pained hisses. 

He buried himself to the hilt. Once he finally came to a stop you shuddered at the feeling of him inside of you.

Tears soaked your blindfold, some escaping and running down your cheeks. You felt so full,  _ so fucking full and good.  _

His breath fanned over your neck. While anatomically, it was nearly impossible for him to nuzzle your neck, you still felt the same amount of love as he rested your head near your collarbone, almost  _ purring _ . 

“That’s it.” he whispered. “Breathe.”

The blindfold covering your eyes loosened, and you were momentarily blinded by light as it came off entirely. A fuzzy, crooked smile was on his face as you blinked up at him. 

“There,” he whispered, caressing a thumb lovingly over your cheekbone. “Now I can see those gorgeous eyes.”

You froze, your stomach flipped and turned uncomfortably. 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” you brought your hand up to his, stopping it. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

Gentleness was saved for people you cared for. Gentleness was saved for lovers, who would wake up in the  _ throes of each other’s arms  _ in the early morning, planting kisses on foreheads and blissfully staring into each other’s eyes.

Gentleness wasn’t for you, and it certainly wasn’t for Vox.

Vox’s eyes widened and then narrowed into a hooded gaze. He smirked.

“You don’t want gentle, huh?”

He pulled out and snapped his hips forward, burying himself into you again. A gasp was pulled from your throat.

“Then I won’t  _ give  _ you gentle.”

He set a brutal, punishing pace. All sense of feeling in your lower region blurred and faded into a haze of pressure, pleasure and heat.

Your hands reached out, to touch Vox, to grab hold of him, but he stopped you. He gripped your wrists and pressed them above your head, cutting off the circulation in them.

“Keep them there,” he growled. You compiled without hesitation, gripping the sheets below you.

His hands moved down to your hips, gripping them painfully. He forced your hips to tilt up so he could better slam into you. 

Your consciousness wavered as you drifted on a cloud, mouth agape and pleasure coursing through your body. Hot tears flowed from your eyes as you chanted nonsense in short, quick pants.

His hands moved again, one circled your wrists, locking them in place, and the other - 

Your moans were cut off abruptly as the other one circled your neck. 

“Mine.” Vox half-hissed, half-moaned, tightening his grip until your vision was swimming “Mine.” 

_ Yes _ , you thought, tilting your head back,  _ yours _ . You gave yourself up to his mercy, your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen but fuck it, you didn’t care. You were so close to coming, you were delirious. 

Vox nudged against that sweet spot, slammed into it with all of his force, and you were pushed over the edge. 

Stars sparkled behind your eyes, every muscle in your body clenched down, and an unrestrained moan tore itself from your throat. Your brain crashed, vision going white. You lost feeling in your body, every nerve fried with pleasure as your orgasm crashed down onto you. 

It lasted for what felt like an eternity. If you could have stayed in that beautiful, hot, paradise forever, you would have. 

Vox thrust into you a few more times and your inner walls groaned with overstimulation. He closed his eyes and growled deeply, releasing himself inside of you. He unwound slowly, his nails un-dug themselves from your neck and wrists and he leaned over you, catching his breath.

You rebooted slowly, the world coming back in pieces.

Your forehead was coated in sweat and your breaths came in ragged gasps. Your body was limp and spent, bent in half from Vox’s hold on you. His grip on your throat and hands released entirely. Pins and needles stung your fingers as feelings came back into them.

He pulled out of you and rolled over to one side, arm draped over you. A dull ache was already throbbing in your abdomen, and you knew you’d be sore in the morning. (Thank luficer you didn’t have to work the next day.) 

Your hearing popped in suddenly, Vox’s breathing was right by your side, hot and heavy. One of his fans from his internal servers was running, cooling down his body. 

You shifted on your side to curl into him, groaning when your body ached with that simple movement. Your thighs rubbed together, wet with his come and yours mixed together in- 

Wait.

You sat up, looking down at yourself.

_ Wait _ . 

Was it – it  _ was _ .

His fucking come was glowing blue.

“Aw jeez,” you groaned, shifting your aching body to get up. Vox’s hands went to coax you back down but you slapped them away, hobbling towards the bathroom.

You rid yourself of him, both inside and out, watching the blue substance twirl down the drain.

Gross.

“It’s blue,” you announced, walking back into the bedroom. You picked up your shirt from the floor and pulled it on.

“What?” Vox asked, laid back on your bed, cleaning himself with your sheet. You grimaced, before realizing you should have probably brought him something to clean off with. Oh well, too late to save your sheets now.

“Your...” you hesitated to say the word aloud. “…y’know.”

A mischievous smile pulled on his lips. “My what?”

You swatted him with the end of your pants. “You know what I mean! Why is it blue? It wasn’t like that when we did it last time.”

Vox scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had uh, a few upgrades.”

Lord in heaven -  _ Upgrades _ ?

You leveled him with a death glare. “Please don’t tell me those upgrades can make me pregnant.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What? No, how would that even work?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I was asking!”

He laughed as you settled beside him on the bed, propping yourself up on a pillow, intertwining your legs together. 

You savoured these moments with Vox. There wasn’t the constant teasing, the pestering, the working. It was just him. And as pitiful as it might have been to admit it, sex was the only time you felt as Vox’s equal. 

“Vox?” you whispered quietly. 

“Hm?”

“Do you do this with all of your employees?” you asked. “Fuck em’, I mean?”

He rested his head on his palm, looking up at you with lidded eyes. “Only the hot ones.”

You stared back at him blankly. “Don’t flatter me.” There was no way in hell he thought you, the one who had made a deal to escape their sadness, was  _ hot _ .

“I’m not lying!” he insisted.

But even if sex made him your equal, that was only temporaily. The next morning, he’d go back to being Vox, the overlord, your boss. And you would go back to being his servant.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you yawned, sliding off the bed. “Put your clothes on and get out.”

Maybe it was a bit cold, but he probably deserved a bit of coldness. It felt good, seeing his face fall in dismay. It felt good to hurt him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Getting something to eat.” you called back, padding out of the bedroom and into your tiny kitchen. 

It was early in the evening, with the sun just having gone down over the horizon. You pulled open the fridge and inspected it. It mostly consisted of microwavable hot meals and easy-to-grab snacks. Likewise, in the cabinets, your pantry was filled with nonperishables and boxes of instant noodles. Stuff that was easy to make when you didn’t have the energy to care about what you were putting in your mouth. 

Today, however, you were feeling famished, with the energy to actually cook something for once. 

You pulled the ingredients from the fridge, and had just turned the stove on when hands looped around your waist. You sighed, putting the pan down to face Vox’s smug smile.

“We’re not finished yet,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes. “We’re not?”

Vox faltered for a second. “Well, if you don’t want to spend the evening wallowing in your own self doubt, then nope.” His brows rose. “Do you want us to be done?”

That was something that always stuck out about Vox. For as much of a cock as he was at times, he had a knack for knowing what people felt, and how they behaved. 

So, if he said later on your mood would turn sour, it probably would.

Plus, you hated to admit it, but you wanted a bit more time with him. A bit more time with Vox, the demon. Not Vox the Overlord, not your boss, not the one who owned your soul.

Just Vox.

Your cheeks flushed.

“…no.”

He smiled again, hooking his arms under your thighs, and hoisted you onto the counter. With a firm touch, he spread your legs and knelt so he was level with your entrance.

“Then we’re not done.” He growled, breath fanning over your naked core.

His tongue licked against your bare skin, and you closed your eyes with a moan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *standing in the corner with a tiny electric fan* phew! What a chapter! Take a seat and relax, I have a lot to talk about. 
> 
> This chapter is a stand-alone, mostly because there were a few people who wanted to see Vox smut. And who am I to deny the people of their wishes? I tried to make this as gender neutral as I possibly could. (I so badly wanted to have Vox say 'Good boy' or 'Good girl' but unfortunately, I could not.)  
> This was my first time writing smut and while I think it was ok, it was so embarrassing. I had to stop every 5 minutes because I would get flustered.  
> I started this chapter back in *May*, and I just finished this today.
> 
> And now... a bit of an update about this story's future. 
> 
> School is starting again, and because this is a very important year for me, I don't know how often updates will be. I am determined to get this fic done! But please understand I've got my own life, and other things I want to write about. (Anyone a BNHA fan? I might be starting something with Hawks and Dabi in the coming months because I am a useless simp.) 
> 
> And with that being said, next chapter will be the start of act two! <3 I'm so excited to show you guys what I've been cooking up since I've been gone.  
> A big thank you to Ana, for her advice, proofreading, and discussing the ideas that are scattered in my messy brain <3
> 
> Now, excuse my screaming.  
> LOOK AT THIS LOVELY ANIMATION/ ANIMATIC MADE BY candypopcandylolipop  
> https://comfeyworks.tumblr.com/post/628887569200005120/ohhh-my-god-i-love-this  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> No words can describe how much I love this. Thank you. Holy shit. 
> 
> Finally, this chapter is dedicated to Marisa, who is way too interested in the Hazbin men. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you in act two!
> 
> twitter/tumblr: comfeyworks


	18. A rocky rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being reborn again, the reader sets out of Pentagram City, running into a few problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, the story of TSOYS will be written in present tense. 
> 
> Welcome to the first chapter of act two!

Walking the streets of Pentagram City at night is difficult enough, but walking while _naked_ is downright impossible.

You grit your teeth as the tenth person that night whistles at you. Crossing your arms tighter against your chest, you quicken your stride.

The harassers and catcallers were more manageable during the first few streets when your mind and body were still reeling with the realization that you were dead. But now that the initial shock has worn off, you're starting to feel embarrassed by what little you were wearing.

Or, you suppose, embarrassed by not wearing anything at all. 

As you cross a street, you feel something thread through the last inch of your tail. You whip around, pulling your tail flush to your body, and bare your teeth at the offender.

The culprit, a demon with three eyes, looks down at you with a crooked grin. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He rasps, cigarette hanging from his cracked lips.

“Keep your fucking hands off of me,” you growl.

“Oh, feisty, are we?” His hand moves, and you actually hiss this time, spittle flying from your mouth. He puts his hands up in defence.

“Hey now, I don’t want any trouble…I’m just appreciating what you’re putting out.” His eyes roam every inch of your body. Your stomach turns with disgust at this despicable creature, blood rushing to your face.

“Fuck off.” You spit, turning your back to him and walking away. 

But your threats don’t deter him. In fact, they only seem to spur him on further. You hear him follow, fingers brushing against your wrist, and you snap.

You spin around and slash him across the face with your claws. Red blood gushes from his eyes and he stumbles back.

“ _Fuck_! You fucking bitch!” he shrieks, clutching his face with agony. 

His screams attract the attention of those around the street. A murmur ripples through the crowd, eyes drawing to your naked body. You shudder. 

Time to leave. 

You turn tail and run as fast as you can, in the opposite direction of the demon who’s eyes you just gouged out. His wails of agony and curses fade as you sprint through alleyways and hop over brick walls. 

By the time you stop, you’re sweating all over and coughing for air. You press your back up against the cool brick of a quiet alleyway, assessing your situation and catching your breath. 

Ok, First things first - You need clothes and you need them fast. But the closest store could be miles away, and even then, you’d have to enter the store butt-naked and then steal something because you have no cash on you. 

You poke your head around the corner, looking out onto the main street. The buildings and storefronts sag down on themselves, parts of the brick walls chipping off. There’s not a single light on in them and all but one of the lamp posts on the end of the street are burnt out. Even though the street is shrouded in darkness, you realize, you can see just fine. It’s a nice perk of becoming part raccoon. 

Judging from its appearance, you’re in the slum area of the city. Which is good, that means there won’t be many pedestrians. You don't know your way around the slums very well, but you _do_ know that they’re near the border to the 6th circle: Envy. 

The Pride circle is made up entirely of Pentagram City. The envy circle, while it does have a few large cities, also has miles of barren desert and dirt between them. It’s not an easy environment to traverse, but you’ve got little choice - you need to get as far away from the city - as far away from Vox - as you can. 

And for that, you’ll need a few things. 

You emerge from the alleyway and creep along the side of the road, taking your time as you weave your way further north. Rats scurry by your feet and other noises rustle in the night, but you don’t spot any other demons as you walk. 

As you take the next corner, you immediately backpedal at the sight of light. Taking extra precaution, you peek around the corner. 

On the left side of the street, there’s a large group of demons gathered around a flaming barrel, a modest fire illuminating their features. You try to count how many there are, but the bright light makes you squint. 

It’s hard to make out, but you estimate there’s around 10-15 of them around the fire, maybe more in the nearby buildings. The light from the flames makes it so that there’s no way you’ll make it down the street without being seen. 

You _could_ try and take another street, but the same problem might arise. Or worse - there could be more people. Some that aren’t lounging around a fire, drinking from beer bottles and sharing cigarettes. 

Besides, you had a plan. 

You round the corner, sashaying down the sidewalk on the right side of the street. Despite your instincts, you keep your arms relaxed at your side, moving them naturally.

Obviously, they notice you, sending whispers to each other and pointing at the mysterious naked raccoon walking all alone. But, they don’t say anything or try to approach you. You’re about a third of the way down the street, thinking maybe your plan won’t work, when you hear someone call out.

“Looking good there, hot stuff, wanna give me a piece of that?” 

Bingo. 

Hoping you didn’t regret your next actions; you stop and look at the demon in question who called to you. 

He’s thin, a few inches taller than you, with fiery red hair and stubble on his chin. Channelling as much courage as you can, you cock your hip out and crook a finger at him. “Ohh’s” and “Oooh’s” echo from the group as they push the red-head out of the cluster towards you, ruffling his hair. 

He crosses the street and stops in front of you, hands in his pocket. 

“Well, good morning,” he grins at you. His breath smells like cheap booze.

“Good morning,” you say back, as sultry as you can. “What a gentleman you are.”

“Me? Gentleman?” he laughs, slipping one arm around your waist. You remind yourself to not scratch his eyes out. “Nah babe, I’m nothing but a scoundrel.”

You pull on his collar, trying up at him through your lashes. This is beyond mortifying but you force yourself to suck it up. “Well, maybe I like scoundrels.”

You kiss him then, right on the lips. It’s weird and awkward and you hope he doesn’t notice how stiff you are. His lips feel too hot and crusty as you move your lips against them. 

When you pull back, his head moves forward, seeking your mouth again. You press a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“Let’s go somewhere private,” you hum. 

The two of you, like drunken teenagers, shuffle between two buildings. It’s dark, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. At the end of the alley is a chain-link fence. Tall, but not tall enough that you couldn’t scale it. 

Perfect. 

He presses you against the side of the building, slotting a knee between your knees. Your hands run down his body, brushing against something firm.

“Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You say with as much flirtation in your voice as you can. 

He smirks, digs into the front of his oily coat and pulls out a switchblade. “Both.” 

He drops the blade, going in for another kiss. You match his lips, trying to think of a way to get what you want before things go too far. He fumbles with the belt at his waist with one hand, hiking your leg further up his side with the other. Anxiety makes your stomach clench and you place a hand on his belt. 

“Wait,” you squeak, voice a bit too tight. 

He stops. “What’s wrong?” 

You gulp, mind racing for an answer. 

_Calm down and think_ , you say to yourself, _what would Angel do in this situation?_

You wrangle in your fear. “Could you lay down? I wanna make you feel good, I - I wanna _be_ good for you.” 

He hesitates for a second, but nods after a moment. “Sure.” He lets you down, both feet touching the ground, and you sigh with relief. The guy must be horny or desperate for sex or both. 

He lies down on the ground, (gross), patting his lap. Calling upon Angel Dust’s confidence, you straddle his legs, letting his hands grip your waist. They travel lower to touch your sex, and you quickly stop them. 

“Ah-ah, don’t touch,” then you add after a second. “For now. Let me do the work for you.”

His hands, thankfully, stay on your hips. You kiss him again to satisfy him, letting his tongue swirl around your mouth. It’s nasty and you feel your face heat up but you keep going. 

You feel up his chest, starting at his hips and travelling up. Your palms rub over his shoulders, his collar, and his neck. He grinds up into your hips, groaning into your mouth. 

You feel his neck, cupping it with both hands. 

His hands squeeze your hips, digging into your flesh. Your fingers tighten around his neck as you gasp, kissing him more forcefully.

He grunts, breaking for air, then goes back to the kiss. Your fingers clench tighter down. He pulls back, a bit more urgent, choking down breaths. 

“Hey,” he gasps. “Too tight.”

You only squeeze tighter, pressing down with your hips and legs to lock him in place. 

“Hey too ti-” his sentence is cut off with a strangled croak as you crush his windpipe, silencing him. Panic sets in and his hands scrabble at your arms, trying to loosen them. He wriggles underneath you in an attempt to buck you off of him, but you hold strong and firm. 

“Please don’t resist,” you whisper. “It’s easier for both of us if you don’t resist.”

Your words only make him panic further. He flails around, nails drawing blood when he scratches you. His lips turn a shade of blue as he gurgles incoherently, eyes bulging from his sockets, filled with fear. 

You press into the choke, praying for time to pass quicker. 

He makes one last-ditch attempt to free himself, scrabbling at your hands, before his eyes roll back into his skull and his arms fall to his sides. 

He’s unconscious. 

You exhale a sigh of release. Your hands loosen from his neck and you get off of him. 

“Sorry about this,” you whisper, rolling him onto his side. “But I don’t have any other choice.

You strip him down to his underpants and dress in his clothes. A stained white shirt with a deep neckline, a baggy pair of jeans, the oily, ripped coat, and his boots. The clothes, minus the jacket, are all a size too big on you, but the shoes are at least 3 sizes larger than yours. You tie the laces as tight as you can, double-knotting them. 

In the pockets of his coat and pants, you find some more goodies. 

A couple of crumpled bills and a handful of change. A full pack of cigarettes, unopened. Half- a pack of chewing gum. An empty lighter. And finally, his thin wallet.

You open up the wad of leather, but there’s nothing important in it. Just a few food stamps and a coupon for a case of beer. You’re about to pocket it when you notice a small photo poking out from one of the folds.

You pull it out. It’s a photo of him and another man. He’s looking at the camera while the other demon kisses his cheek. 

You pause, gazing at the photo. 

The picture is wrinkled and has creases from where it’s been folded, but it’s clear that it’s of importance. 

This person, already living in poverty, has a life of his own. To you, he’s a stranger you robbed for your benefit but to someone else, he’s very important. For the first time that day, you feel remorseful.

You fold the photo carefully and slip it into his palm, wrapping his fingers closed around it. 

This is Hell. And while he has someone else to support him, you’ve got no one. But that doesn’t mean you still feel bad when you rise.

You walk over and pick the switchblade up from the floor. You flick it open, play around with it, then close it, holding it in the palm of your hand. You want to be ready if someone decides to start a fight. 

You look up at the sky. It’s starting to brighten from a dark garnet to a scarlet. It’s time to leave, before the guy’s buddies come looking for him, or join in on the fun. 

You turn the lapels of your coat up, shove your hands into your pockets, and walk further into the alleyway, scaling the wall and disappearing from sight.

* * *

The moment you realize you’ve adjusted to Imp City is when the howling of a Hellhound doesn’t make you flinch. 

A month has passed since you crossed the border from Pride to Envy and one week since you stepped foot into Imp City. 

Imp City. The largest city in the circle. Home of...well, Imps. Small red creatures with pointed tails and black or white horns. They’re just one of the many species that are born in Hell and as such, can reproduce. Despite this, however, they’re relatively weak and are considered to be the lowest of the low in society. 

As you walk, your steps are shaky and slightly off balance. More than once do you catch yourself tripping over elevations or dips in the sidewalk. You have the alcohol to blame for that. But does that stop you from taking another swig of your bottle? No.

You gag as the foul liquid slides down your throat, making your eyes water. It tastes like carbonated urine. You pray to whatever gods up in Heaven that it isn’t. 

Everything in Envy is slightly...worse than it is in Pride. The cities aren’t as flashy or modern. The food tastes worse. The booze is crappier and more watery. Essentially, everything in Envy seems like a bootleg version of what could be found in Pride. 

Ironically, because of this, the circle of Envy is envious of the Pride circle. Or so you’ve heard. 

You finish the last of your beer, puckering your lips at the acidic taste. Yup. Nothing like bootleg liquor. 

Tucking the empty bottle into your jacket, you fish out your last cigarette from your last pack, crumpling up the paper and tossing it on the ground. You’ve picked up some old bad habits since your death. Smoking more. Drinking more. Thinking less. But after everything that happened, could anyone blame you? Everyone has their coping mechanisms.

You turn down another street and the motel you’ve been staying at comes into view. The day after you robbed that demon for his clothes, you found a modest amount of 50 dollar bills hidden in your boots. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was enough to feed you and keep you off the streets for the month. 

The motel is shitty and worn down, walls corroded by mold and infested with bugs. Your room isn’t much better - with blood-stained sheets and an inch of dust covering everything - but it’s cheap and it’s a place to sleep without worrying about dying of hypothermia or getting shanked in the middle of the night. 

Oh, but then again, you can’t die, now can you?

Fuck, you think, lighting your cigarette and inhaling until your eyes water. You’re never gonna get used to being dead. 

Once you get to the motel, you bounce up the steps to the second floor, then jam the key into your room’s lock. You go to turn it when the door swings open on its own. You freeze, smoke curling from your mouth, as a putrid scent fills your nostrils. 

Something’s wrong.

You toss your cigarette to the side, snuffing it out under your shoe, and cautiously enter the room.

Something is very wrong indeed, the scent only worsens as you enter the room. You cover your nose with your sleeve, ears pointed forward at alert. Your shoes squelch in the carpet as you step in blood. Blood? Yes, blood.

There’s blood everywhere. A lot of it, sprayed across the walls, floor, even the ceiling is speckled red. Your eyes follow the spray patterns to the center of the room, where a corpse lies in the middle of the bead.

She’s an Imp. At least you think so - it’s hard to tell with all of the blood. Her chest is opened up, spilling her organs onto the sheets, and one of her arms has been torn off from her body.

You feel queasy. Your stomach threatens to empty itself as you stumble backwards. Something cold presses against the back of your skull, making you freeze. 

“Don’t move,” a woman says from behind you, voice cold and hard. “Or I’ll shoot.”

You fight the urge to sigh. (Really, this is how it’s gonna be?) “I won’t.”

“Hands up.”

You do as she says, holding both palms open.

The mystery woman feels your coat and your pants, taking away the bottle and your switchblade. 

“Why did you come here?”

“I rented this room. I just came back to sleep.” you say, “Look, I don’t want any part of whatever the fuck this is, and I don’t know anything.”

She doesn’t say anything for a second. You think she’s going to let you go when you hear the gun click. 

“That’s too bad.”

You whip around, knocking her outstretched arm just as she fires. While the bullet misses your skull, you feel red-hot fire flare through your right shoulder. You grind your teeth together, surging forward and knocking the woman to the ground. 

She’s an imp. Taller than you, and muscular too. Her fiery orange eyes glare back at you as you wrestle on the ground. Her hand grips your shoulder, pressing into the wound, and you scream. 

It’s like your shoulder is on fire, burning down your arm and across your chest. White dots sparkle your vision as she throws you off of her, sending you flying across the room. 

You land with a painful crash against the wall. The blood from your shoulder has soaked through your shirt and jacket, continuing to flow in a steady stream. You groan, ears ringing, trying to push yourself up. But your body feels like it’s made of lead, uncooperative and lazy. Using just one arm isn’t enough. When you try and use your right hand, the pain sends you back down with a cry. 

The woman stands, reloading her gun and points it at you. Staring into the dark barrel, you feel frozen with fear, tail wrapped around yourself. The fear that you’re going to die again. In pain, all alone, with no one around to help or care for you. 

You don’t want that. You’re scared. You’re afraid. You don’t want to die again.

…

You want to protect yourself.

You don’t want it to end like this.

_You want to live._

A sharp pain in the center of your chest makes you cry out. You clutch a hand to it as the feeling spreads through your body. A flash of white light bursts from that spot in your chest, enveloping the rest of your body. It blinds you from the rest of the world.

In that moment, something happens. It’s hard to describe and even harder to understand. A question, a whisper, coming from within your soul. Something pulses beneath your skin. You can feel it, dancing along to the beat of your heart. You reach deep down inside of you, grappling for that feeling. It’s like pulling something out of you, drawing it from the center of your body and stretching it to the tips of your fingers.

You’re pulling - power? Energy? You don’t know, but you keep going. 

As you bring the feeling to the forefront of your skin, every nerve in your body alights with warmth. Your hands buzz with anticipation and the air swirls around you, ruffling your hair and clothes. You feel something solid form in your hands and your fingers wrap around the smooth metal. Energy surges through your body and you feel the pain in your shoulder dull. You stand, the light around you dimming enough that you can see what you’re holding. 

A curved silver bow. 

It’s beautiful, elegant, fitting in your palm like it was made for you. There’s a black crescent moon carved into the handle, right where the grip is. The bow vibrates in your hand, almost like it’s _humming_ to you. 

You’d seen Angel do something similar before, when someone on the street wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d narrowed his eyes, pulled out a club from nowhere, and cracked the demon across the side of his face. 

_“What was that?” you asked, after the offender scurried off with his tail between his legs._

_“Oh this?” he grinned, dusting off his suit. “Just somethin’ I can do. Most demons can pull a certain type of weapon out of thin air when they want to defend themselves. It’s like a natural ability or some shit like that.” He pulled out three types of machine guns, two pistols, one crowbar, and another club from nowhere. “These are my go-to’s! Like em?”_

_“That is cool,” you said. “And anyone can do this?”_

_“Sure. Just like uh… ooh! Just like that Radio fucker can whip out his thingy-ma-jig and put it away!”_

_“...His radio?”_

_“Yeah, that thing!”_

But there had been nothing like this when Angel did it. There wasn’t a gust of wind and there certainly wasn’t a bright white light. 

You shook the memory from your mind. Alastor and Angel would have to wait for another time. You needed to focus on the Imp.

She seems in shock, staring at the bow like you just pulled a rabbit out of a top hat. While it is cool - and very dangerous looking - you realize you have no arrows and absolutely no clue how to use one. 

You were used to guns, knives, even long-ranged weapons like swords or spears, but bows? Nothing. What was the point? They weren't all that useful in the city. And what was a bow supposed to do against a machine gun?

Great, figures. The one thing you have no idea how to use is the thing you can magically summon. 

The Imp recovers from their shock, pointing their gun at you. Your eyes widen and fear surges through you again.

“Oh, fuck-”

As if sensing your emotion, the bow in your hand morphs. You don’t think, you just move, throwing it towards the Imp like a boomerang. 

It spins, frame wavering like it’s made of liquid, and straightens into a shining metal spear. Different prongs and sharp blades spider out from the spear-like claws, impaling the Imp in ten different places. She opens her mouth, orange eyes fading into a dull grey, and sinks to the ground, still pierced by a web of metal spikes.

You stand in shock, mouth agape. That shouldn’t be able to...happen? Probably? You’d never heard of a demon being able to summon something that could do THAT.

“Holy shit.”

You laugh, wiping hair from your face, hands shaking. That was crazy, exhilarating, and terrifying, but crazy. 

...and now you’re sitting in a pool of blood, at a crime scene, having just impaled a person. 

“...holy shit.”

 _Is she dead???_ No, you assure yourself, there’s no way. Only an Angelic Weapon can kill something in Hell… But even then, if the authorities show up, having one dead Imp in your motel room while you’re covered in blood doesn’t look good, no matter how you spin it. 

“Holy shit...”

You do the only thing you can think of - you run. 

Leaving behind everything, you jump down from the second floor to the first, skipping the stairs. Sparks shoot up your ankles as you hit the ground, but you keep running, sprinting away from whatever the hell just happened.

 _What did happen?_ Bad drug deal, partnership gone south? Who knows, but you aren’t going to stick around until someone comes around to check. You need to flee the city and definitely stop by a store to pick up a few things.

As you run, your eye catches something held in your hand.

The bow, stained red with blood. 

“ _Ahh,_ what the-?!” you drop the weapon like it’s poisonous, shaking your hand multiple times after it clatters against the ground. Yep - there’s DEFINITELY something fishy with that bow thingy.

You look over your shoulder as you run. The bow (???) lies where you dropped it, unmoving. You keep your eyes forward and continue to run. 

As you’re processing what the hell just happened, the bow re-appears in your hand. You scream, throwing the thing as far away from you as you can. 

One day, can you just get one _day_ without something going horribly wrong? 

First, it was dying, then dragging your ass through the Pride Circle all the way through the wilderness of Envy to get to Imp City, then getting drunk so you wouldn’t have to think of your future, then you walk into a murder-scene in your shitty motel, and now a friggin magical bow is following you around?!?!

When it appears for the third time, a few seconds later in your hand, you feel like curling up against the floor and crying. 

“Just leave me alone!” you yell, chucking the bow against a wall. You hear it hit the brick fall into an open dumpster

Ten seconds pass, then twenty, then a full minute. You look behind you just for good measure - it’s not appearing. 

Finding some semblance of peace, you slow yourself to a jog, ribs aching. For the next half hour, you switch between jogging, running, and speed walking. The sun dips low in the sky, the last rays clinging to the horizon persistently. 

You finally decide to stop at a gas station corner store when the adrenaline fades and your shoulder begins to protest.

You make a beeline for the medical goods, taking a look at what your options are. You’re embarrassed by how often you catch yourself zoning out. But you guess, blood loss and intoxication will do that. 

You collect a pack of gauze, some rubbing alcohol, and duct tape. It’s the best that you have to work with, given the limited selection. 

You’re just about to get in line to pay when an epiphany strikes you - how are you going to pay for everything?

Doing a great balancing act, you fish out your wallet and count how much you have. You grimace. You’ve got enough, but you’ll be left with nothing. Then what? How are you going to get more money? You can’t go out into Hell with a fucked up shoulder and nothing on you. Are you gonna have to seduce someone again for money? Or worse, are you gonna have to fuck-

“Excuse me?” A honey-sweet voice interrupts your panicked thoughts. You turn around, looking down at a small, female Imp. Two onyx horns poke out from a nest of black hair. She smiles warmly up at you, a gap between her two front teeth. “Are you alright?”

You stare at her for a solid minute, mouth not opening. When you finally speak, something between a laugh, a sob and a choke comes from your throat. You scrub at your eyes. “No. I’m not.” 

She waves her hands out in front of her, a crease pulling at her brow. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry! I was just wondering if you’re new in town because you’ve got that bow with you in a weapons-free store.”

You stop rubbing your eyes to blink at her. 

“What?” you ask. She points at your chest. 

You look down and see the bow looped around your belt, hanging at your side. You flail, almost dropping your items. You tug at it, muttering curses, and unhook it from your belt. 

It still hums, almost smugly into your hands. 

“Why the hell-” you want to scream, but you save your breath, looping it over your shoulder. “Thanks for telling me. I’m sorry for causing you trouble.” 

You turn around before she can say anything else, putting your items on the counter. As the cashier is ringing up your products, you hear the Imps voice interrupt from behind you. 

“If you don’t mind - could you let me pay for their things?”

“Millie! What are you doing?!” An Imp besides Millie hisses. She places a hand on his shoulder, calming him, keeping her eyes on the cashier.

The cashier, who looks like they don’t get paid enough to be working, doesn’t even blink. “Sure. Whatever.” 

Millie prances beside you, adding her things beside yours. 

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “...why are you doing this?” 

She looks you in the eye, answer honest and simple. “Because I want to.”

* * *

  
  


Millie cleans your shoulder outside the convenience store (the one demand she had after buying your things.) with you both sitting on the ground, your back pressed against the wall. Moxxie, as you learn his name is, watches you like a hawk, tail swishing impatiently. You try not to make too much noise as she works, gripping onto the bow like your life depends on it. 

“So, what’s your story?” Moxxie asks as if he’s interrogating you. 

“Freshly dead. Nowhere to go,” you say. When that answer doesn’t satisfy him you sigh, and tell him the story. Fabricating a few details (you tell them that you were caught in the gunfire between two gangs) and omitting a lot more (like how your bow is somewhat magical (???) and the murder scene you just walked away from.) 

“What are you gonna do now?” Millie asks.

You shrug, or try to, with one shoulder. “Head out of town. Keep moving from there - if I can survive that long - and find someplace quiet to settle down. I was thinking Limbo?”

Your deal with Alastor pops in your mind. You had wished to escape to the first circle - limbo, and to hide far in the woods, living out the rest of your previous life. Obviously that didn’t happen, but maybe now you’ll be able to do that. The thought fills you with hope. 

Moxie and Millie look at each other. 

That hope deflates. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

Millie shakes her head vehemently.“Oh! Not that, it’s just…” she pauses. “Well, y’know, that place is like a wasteland after The Radio Demon and Vox fought there a few decades back. And ever since their declaration of war on each other, people have been trying to stay clear of that area-” 

“Millie!” Moxxie hisses at her, looking around frantically “Don’t say their names out loud!”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s only their names-”

“Even so! Please don’t!”

You interrupt them. “Alastor and Vox are at war?”

The two Imps look at you. Moxxie with horror and Millie with delight.

“See Mox, they’ve got no issue with talking about it!” she says. 

“Well, Alastor and Vox both have more important things to worry about than three souls in a gas station mentioning their names,” you say. “But more importantly - _they’re at war_?” 

Moxxie looks like he’s about to explode. He rubs his face with his hand. “A turf war, yes. But there’s not much else to it other than that. Even so, people are a bit on high alert.”

Oh jeez. A turf war. Knowing those two, it wouldn’t be a pretty one either. 

“I’ll stay away from Limbo, then.”

Millie slaps her hands together, having just remembered something. “Ooh, if you’re heading up the circles, why not try and head for Gluttony?”

“Why’s that?” you ask. 

“I hear there’s this huge secret forest that has every kind of fruit on Earth and then some! Ooh, and a type of tree that secretes caramel! Plus you can find just about anything in the wild, food-wise, as the place is super lush and has all kinds of different plants and animals!”

“...And there’s a whole lot of hazards in Gluttony.” Moxxie cuts in, turning from his wife to look at you. “Most of the circle is uninhabited and uncharted, the few souls that live there are cautious about newcomers.”

Gluttony...the third circle. That meant you’d have to travel through two circles to get to it. A pretty far journey, but not necessarily a bad one. 

“I see...well, I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t like you had any other plan. If the place was as uninhabited as Moxxie said it was, there would be less of a chance of Vox finding out where you were, too.

Millie tightens the last bandage on your shoulder, wiping her forehead with her arm. “There! All done!”

You stand, with a bit of help from the two Imps. “Thank you. Both of you, you’ve been very helpful.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Millie says with a smile. “Just make sure to be careful, kay? The city isn’t always the safest.”

You nod. “I’ll try, thank you again.”

Millie waves goodbye as she and Moxxie climb into their car. They drive off, leaching you behind in the dust. 

Kind souls do exist in Hell, huh. How refreshing. 

You lean back up against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing in the smoky-city air. 

So, what do you do now?

Screw going back to the Motel. Staying in Imp City doesn’t seem to be the safest, either. Nor is it any fun with their shitty booze (though Husk might like it.)

You slap yourself across the cheek. Forget about Husk. He’s back in the city, probably passed out drunk, forgetting all about you. Just like Angel, and Baxter, and Alastor…

You sink to your knees, tail curling around your legs, and rest your head into your knees. You need to forget about them. That part of your life is over, and now’s the time to let go. You visualize them all in your head, visualize them disappearing from your mind. But you hesitate once you get to Vox, with his blue smile and red eyes, and even more when you get to Alastor, with his crisp red suit and sardonic smile.

They’re at war. And that concerns you. But even though they are...well, that’s their problem. Not yours. Not anymore. 

That thought gives you pause, makes you smile. Not anymore. You can do whatever you like now, you’re not tied down to anything.

Well...except maybe the bow.

You lift your head, turning your gaze towards the object in your hand. 

“What are you? Are you just something I can ‘pull’ out of thin air? Why a bow? Why not a gun or a knife? Angel told me he could pull out guns and stuff because he used them when he was alive, so why am I pulling _you_?”

It doesn’t reply. Nothing but the constant hum in your hands. You feel utterly silly, talking to a bow. It’s not like it can hear you. You’re probably worrying yourself over nothing. You decide to get going before you make a greater fool of yourself. 

You get to your feet, stretching your arms carefully. Even though the sun is setting, you figure you should get a move on. You’re too riled up and antsy to sleep with all that’s happened. You’ll walk, probably through the morning and into the afternoon, find some place to stay in the next town or out in the wild. Then get up, leave, crash, repeat. There’s no way you’re staying in one place for longer than a day after what happened. Not anytime soon. 

It’s gonna be a long few weeks, month, year? Years? With your only goal being to get as higher up the circles as you can, to get to Gluttony. 

It’ll be a lonely journey.

You turn the bow over in your hand, running your thumb over the crescent moon. 

“Don’t leave me,” you whisper. “Please.”

It continues to hum in your hands. You don’t know why, but you feel comforted by it. 

Holding onto the bow, you begin to walk again. 

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Heaven…_

The angel’s footsteps echo as they walk along the marble pathway to the sanctum. Located on the top of the mountain, the sacred grounds overlook the entire city. Wildflowers and wildlife grow on either side of the pathway, the flowering buds and blades of grass wet with morning dew. They hold a lantern in one hand, the orange flames within the metal confines flicker energetically, providing light and a bit of warmth in the cool morning. 

Their breath comes in puffs of white clouds as the ground tilts higher and higher, they hike up the ends of their cream travelling cloak and continue towards the top.

Every Sunday they hike up these sets of stairs, where they then stay for the next 6 days before hiking back down Friday evening. Saturday is the only day each week that they get off. Such were the rules of The Order.

By the time they reach the summit, the sun is rising over the horizon, painting the sky shades of pink, purple, and blue. They stop for a minute to catch their breath, taking in the scenery of the sanctum. 

The courtyard is breathtaking, even at its quietest. Fruit trees and berry bushes grow everywhere, providing shade and food for the students when they break for lunch. A fountain in the middle of the main path sprouts sparkling water for both the residents and animals that live on the grounds. Separate smaller pathways break off from the main one, leading to different parts of the sanctum. The smaller paths are made up of pieces of coloured stone, arranged to form fancy patterns and mosaics. 

Further deeper into the grounds stood the sacred temple. Tall, imposing, held up by thick pillars and made up of polished marble. Fancy patterns and designs decorate the exterior, shaped from metals of copper, silver and gold. 

The angel walks along the main pathway to the temple, climbing the two sets of stairs to be level with the arched doorway. Two guards stand on either end of the entrance, each dressed in their sacred, grey uniforms. They both clench silver lances in their gloved hands, at attention. 

They’re just for show, naturally. Or perhaps a reassurance. No one with ill intent against The Order would get one foot on sacred grounds without being apprehended. 

The guards recognize the angel as they approach, and nod in greeting.

“Good morning, honoured Vestigial,” says the guard on the right. 

“Good morning,” the angel says back, entering the temple. 

There are many hallways and corridors that branch off from the entrance hall, but the angel knows exactly where to go. They walk through the halls, sandals slapping against stone. Each step sounds too loud. The temple is so open that they can practically hear their heartbeat echoing through the wide space. 

They finally arrive at their destination, a set of double wooden doors with a pair of guards to watch them as well. One of them approaches the angel as they reach the door, extending their hand over the lantern in their hands. The lantern flashes silver, and the guard steps back.

“Good morning, honoured Vestigial.”

“Good morning.” 

The guards open the doors for the angel, and they shut it behind them. 

Their classroom is spacious, the rooftop shaped like a dome with a circular hole in the top of it. Bookshelves line the walls, stuffed to the brim with thick tomes. A collection of cushions are laid out on the floor, spread out in front of a chalkboard. The room is lit up with lanterns, illuminating everything in a soft orange glow. Ancient artifacts are out in the open or on display on shelves within the walls. 

One of the bookshelves has a sliding ladder attached to it, perched on top of the tall structure is a figure dressed in silken robes. They’re holding a large book and a feathered pen in one hand, spectacles sit upon their nose, a long chain running behind their neck. Gorgeous, white wings sprout from their back, sparkling white in the candlelight. Their long, black, curly hair is tied back neatly with a length of ribbon. It falls along their spine, right between their wings. 

As the door shuts behind the angel, their head turns to face them. A smile breaks over their face and they softly shut their book. “Ah, you’re early.” 

The angel bows in greeting. “Good morning, Great Vestal.” 

The Great Vestal spreads their wings wide, feathers arching out to their tips, and floats down towards the Angel. Their wings flap softly as they slow their descent, feet touching the ground. Their wings tuck back behind them. land and tuck behind their back once they are on the ground. 

“Good Morning, honoured Vestigial. Did you find your walk pleasant?” their voice is smooth like frosting, eyes gazing intently at the angel through their spectacles. 

The Angel nods. “I did.” 

The Great Vestal smiles warmly. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

The Great Vestal leaves the Angel to prepare a few things before class begins, walking around the bookshelves and scribbling on their book further.

The Angel takes a seat on a cushion, setting their lantern down beside them and opening up one of their textbooks. They sneak a casual glance at the Great Vestal while they work. They seem normal as ever, murmuring to themself, wings twitching every now and again.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything seems to be fine.

A weight feels lifted off of the angel’s shoulder. They continue pretending that they’re reading for the next hour as their classmates slowly trickle in. The room fills with the sound of talking, and they overhear some of the conversations.

“My sister was initiated as a representative last week. She’s already been called on duty for her Ancient One.”

“That’s marvellous! What sector does she work in?”

“Agriculture and Nature, she blesses the fields and promotes crop growth. If she does well enough, The Order might even grant her a task on Earth.”

Initiation. Four years of studying, learning, training to be initiated as a representative of an Ancient One. The angel is halfway done their third year. After that, if they pass initiation, they’ll be bestowed their relic and given the honour to serve in the name of their assigned Ancient One.

Which means, at most, they’ve got a little less than two years until someone finds out what they’ve done.

They bite their lip.

The tap tap tapping of the Great Vestal’s pen on the table gathers everyone's attention. “Seats please!”

Dispersing like mice, the students find their cushions on the ground, each one owning a lantern that they keep by their side. The Angel looks at their own lantern, into the forever burning flame. The fire curls and flickers nonchalantly. Through the flames, they can see the symbol carved in the inside of the lantern, on the bottom plate.

A crescent moon.

The Great Vestal takes their place in front of the blackboard. “Please turn to chapter 4.5 in your textbook, we’ll start off with the history of sacred rituals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I'm late on this update. I know, sorry, certain circumstances came up and WhOOp, this chapter got pushed back. + it was also WAY longer than I intend it to be. What can I say, I just had fun writing with it. 
> 
> This story is now in present tense and I'm so happy. You have no idea how hard it was at times, writing in past tense. But I'm free!! Finally!!!
> 
> This isn't really imporant, but The Great Vestal goes by they/them. I felt that a holy, heavenly figure wouldn't be held back by gender constants and would just be...them. And the angel at the end of the chapter is the same one from the end of chapter 15, FYI. (I know it gets a bit messy with so many 'they' pronouns during that part, but I tried to keep it as clear as I possibly could) 
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed! I'm really excited to hear your theories/ thoughts about this chapter, as I've introduced a few new things <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> twitter/tumblr: @comfeyworks


	19. Year one - Oceans and Deserts and Ravens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader heads further up the circles on their goal to reach the third circle, Gluttony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Ana for proofreading this chapter and being the inspiration for Corveous. Everybody say thank you Ana. 💕 
> 
> Warning: Animal death (Nothing graphic, but it does happen.) Light blood mention.

You fell into an easy routine for the next five months. 

Wake up. Search for food. Eat. Move. Rest when the sun was in the sky. Repeat. 

Maybe it was just because of your anatomy, but you found it difficult to stay awake during the day. It was hard to see, you felt fatigued in the sun, and you’d get a headache if you stayed awake for too long. No, nights were far easier for you to handle. You had better vision, you felt more alert, and you had more energy.

The only downfall about prowling around at night was that there were a lot of hostile creatures that came out. Poisonous scorpions, vicious cobras, and feisty roadrunners to name a few. Not to mention the other demons and sinners that were scattered around the desert. 

You tried to stay away from the general populace, always taking caution whenever you saw the flicker of their campfires at night. But a few times you crept close to the other’s camps, snagging a few items here and there.

A sturdy backpack. A hat that protected you from the harsh sun. Clothes and boots that fit you better. A half-decent hunting knife. And an old fashioned lighter, just to name a few. 

Did it bother you that you were stealing from others? A bit. But when your stomach was eating itself alive after having nothing to eat for a few days, your morals were the last thing on your mind. 

Hunger was an awful thing. It ate away at you, only worsening as time went on. Another factor to consider was that no matter how long you starved, you were physically incapable of dying. 

So no, you didn’t feel bad about what you were doing. Mostly. 

You tried not to take more than you had to, but a few times you indulge yourself, stocking up on canned goods and bottled water from traveller’s backpacks and stuffing your pockets with cash. You had a feeling you'd need it for the next circle...

The thought hit you suddenly, of just how _like_ a raccoon you were acting. Sneaking around, taking scraps from others, staying away from everyone. Whoever decided you were going to be cursed (blessed?) with becoming one in the afterlife must be proud. 

The real gem you found was a thick tome from a gang that was camped out underneath the protection of a tree. You shoved it under your coat, tip-toeing around the sleeping demons, and fled into the night. When you opened it later, in the safety of the bush, you found that it was an encyclopedia of the plants and animals in Hell. 

The knowledge in that book was precious. It gave you access to the wild fruits you could eat, the different wild herbs, and the various animals that could be killed, (some animals were immortal and some were no different from the regular animals on earth) the different fowl and eggs that would be eaten, and which plants to crack open for freshwater.

It was a game-changer. Your nights were made up of hunting and gathering, harvesting the wild fruit that grew on cactuses, hunting down the different fowl and snatching their eggs from their nests. You stocked your packs full of food and filled up your bottles with water. During the day you dined like a King before falling asleep in the shade, belly full and tail tucked close to your body. 

Your bow remained by your side through everything. You still didn’t know _exactly_ how it worked. Sometimes it would morph into a knife or tool when you needed one, but other times it was stubbornly unwavering, remaining a bow. It was of little use as it was naturally because even though it looked elegant, there were no arrows for you to shoot with. The only constant about it was a low pitched vibration that hummed throughout the bow, so quiet you had to press your ear against it to hear it sometimes. 

Regardless, your journey through Envy wasn’t all that bad. Physically and mentally Ok (ish. There were still moments you had where the dark corners of your mind threatened to take you back, but constantly travelling helped keep those dark thoughts at bay.) With a purpose and a plan. 

Your journey also gave you a lot of time to think. It was weird for life to be so...simple after what felt like decades of constant work. Sometimes you almost didn't know what to do with yourself. 

At the end of your fifth month, the scenery begins to change. 

Dry dirt plains and hot, humid air dissolve slowly into soft sand, packed tight under your feet. The air grows from dry to wet, bringing on a hint of saltiness in it. Clouds block out the sun, making it easier for you to handle the daytime, and eventually, you start to shiver from how cool the temperature becomes. 

You’re almost to the fifth circle. 

Two days later, after a full day of trekking, you climb over the last sandy hill, stopping at the top to catch your breath. 

You smile, panting as the wind whips your hair. 

“Hello again, Sea of Sin.” 

The inky-violet ocean stretches out as far as you can see in front of you and to the sides, white caps crashing against the shore. Multiple small wooden docks line the shorelines, but a large one made up of concrete catches your eye a mile out to the right. Multiple massive ships are docked on either side of the strip, tied on with thick ropes. At the bottom of the hill, set up in the sandy dunes of the beach, is a small sea-side town. 

A rumble of thunder pulls you from your thoughts and casts your gaze to the sky. Dark, thick storm clouds are forming, ready to start pouring rain any second. 

You suppress a shiver, descending the hill and waking into town. A sign placed at the entrance reads: _Welcome to the Anger + Wrath Circle._

You flag down a couple, who appear to be tourists and ask them about the sign.

“It’s a combined circle,” the one with a floppy straw hat tells you. “Circles are created from the sins of man. Over time, certain sins that are similar combine into one. Like how Sloth and Limbo combined to form the first Circle. Nowadays, people just call the fifth Circle the Anger Circle.” 

You thank them, (much to their surprise and suspicion), exploring the surrounding town. 

The city seems to be a popular tourist location, with many demons walking around and taking pictures. A few go into the houses and buildings, but they quickly come back out, faces pale and sweating. Your feet take you over to the beach, which is sparsely populated with more tourists. Some of them walk along the shores or lounge in some of the tattered lawn chairs, but not a single person goes near the water. The docks too, you notice, are abandoned, with small boats and dinghies tied to them, but no one to use them. 

The town gives you the creeps. With the overcast sky and the eerily-empty houses, the place feels like a ghost town. You’re relieved to head over to the east side of the Port, towards the huge dock you spotted earlier. The only thing there is a large grey building that has the words ‘PORT ENTRANCE’ on top of the doorway. You open the door and enter into the quiet lobby. 

It’s a plain room with yellow walls and white tiled floors. Advertisements and posters are stuck to the wall, the edges peeling from poor adhesive. The room holds a variety of chairs and a single receptionist behind a barren wooden desk. As you approach, her head bobs up tiredly. Hiding a yawn, she greets you in a monotone voice. 

“Hello and Welcome to the Eldritch Cruises. How may I help you?”

You do a double-take at the name. 

Eldritch, as in the _Von Eldritch_ Family? The super-rich super-powerful family that were in charge of the fifth circle? The ones that were so powerful, they were on par with the Magne family, the bloody _rulers of Hell?_

You gulp. “Umm...I was wondering how to get to the fourth circle?” 

“The only way to get to the Circle of Greed is to take a boat.” She pulls out a map from one of her drawers, showing it to you. It’s a map of the violence circle. Water stretches over the entire page, dotted with large and small islands. She marks an ‘X’ on the bottom of the page. 

“This is your current location-” she pulls out a list from another drawer, highlighting a few sections on it.“-And these are the different plans we offer for cruises or travel.”

You skim the list. There’s a lot of options...and they’re pretty expensive. “Which one is the cheapest and the fastest?”

She sighs, murmuring to herself and running her hand down the page. 

“...the one-way schooner. It makes one pit stop in the middle of the circle, before docking at Greed. The journey takes 6 months and all your accommodations will be taken care of.” 

“How much is it?”

“Ten thousand.”

You cringe. You don’t have nearly that much. “What about five?”

“Look, _kid_ , I can’t lower the price, I’m just an employee.” 

You ignore the fact that she called you a child. “Well, isn’t there another option? One that’s cheaper?”

She rubs a hand over her face, irritation seeping into her voice. “There _isn’t._ Like I said, that’s all we have for cruising-”

“I don’t want any of the fancy cruise stuff. I just want to get to the other side.”

The receptionist heaves a big sigh, but digs into another drawer, pulling out another sheet of paper.

“Normally you’d go to a _different company_ for that type of thing, like Edtritch travels, for stuff _but if you insist_ , we have a few options that aren’t as...flashy.” 

She highlights one of the ships called ‘SOS. GHOST’. “It’s seven thousand. Five with a limited meal plan and restricted onboard services, like laundry and entertainment.” 

You don’t even hesitate. “I’ll take it.”

You fork over the cash upfront and she gives you your ticket. No paperwork, no ID or anything. That at least is a relief. No paper trail to follow. 

“Enjoy your trip.” She says to you as you leave. 

“Thanks.”

She just grunts in response.

* * *

The SOS GHOST was big, but not as big as the one Vox had last time you visited the circle. 

Ah yes, those were the days, working for your master every day...being experimented on and turned into a solder without your consent...the good old days…

Your cabin is built less like a room and more like a prison cell. It’s a single room, ten feet by ten feet, with a tiny bathroom attached to the side. It’s got the basics. Bed. Toilet. Sink. Shower. A small lamp and a desk. But little else, not even a TV. Which, if you’re being honest, you’re really glad about.

After Vox, you hated the sight of them. Maybe you were just paranoid, but you always felt like there was some way he’d be able to watch you through them. Which is another reason for your travel to gluttony - no reception in the middle of an uninhabited forest. (That is if Moxxie and Millie was telling you the truth)

To keep you from going cabin-crazy, you also have a small balcony with a sliding glass door, currently closed currently to block the torrential rain hailing against it. 

You unpack your things as the ship begins to move. You hang up your clothes, put your essentials in the bathroom, rest the bow against your bed, and stand back at your re-decorated room. 

...yeah, it still looks pretty boring. But like it or not, it’ll be your home for the next few months. 

After testing out the bed for a bit, the clock on the wall rings, signalling the start of supper. You grab your room key and head out, weaving through tiny hallways until you reach the cafetorium. Because you got the cheapest meal plan, you get two meals a day, with zero access to any of the activities on board. (Which is fine, you’re here to socialize or gamble away money you don’t have.)

You show your key to one of the workers and they give you a tray of food. Tonight’s special is a scoop of spam mixed in with flaking of potatoes, half a scoop of mixed vegetables, and a cup of water.

“ _Bonne Appetit_ ,” you murmur, returning to your room to eat in solitude. 

While you’re digging into your _first-class dinner_ , you pull out a pamphlet that has a bit of information about the town you just left and the boat you’re on. 

The city you left is called the City of the Lost. A thousand years ago, when the circles of Wrath and Anger combined, a huge tsunami crashed over the town. None of the buildings or items were harmed, but every soul was swept into the sea. Their bodies were swept down into the bottom of the ocean and underneath the sand. Rumours say that the souls of Lost are alive, cursed to remain trapped for all of eternity. The SOS GHOST makes trips solely from the City of the Lost to Gluttony, to capitalize off of the event. 

You become so invested into the story that when a loud tapping noise rattles your balcony door, you jump three feet in the air.

There’s a shadowy, fluffy, figure silhouetted against the dark sky. For a second your heart rate spikes, assuming the ghosts of the Lost have come to haunt you, but the figure shifts, rattling against the glass again. 

You squint your eyes, turning out the lights to see it better. 

It’s a mother bird huddled down on a nest of chicks. The wind is violent and she struggles to keep them all on the balcony as it threatens to blow them all into the ocean. 

“Oh. _Oh-_ ”

You don’t think, you just _act_ , scrambling to your feet. You throw open the door, the wind and rain rushing into the cabin with a roar, and pull the mother and her nest into your room. They tumble inside the cabin in a wet heap. You wrestle with the door, water whipping against your face and clothes, and slam it shut. 

Up close, you can see that the mother has 4 chicks in her nest. All four of them are wrinkly and grey - newborns. They’re all shivering and they seem malnourished. 

“Oh my gosh, _oh my gosh_ where did you guys come from?” When you try to get closer, the mother fluffs her shiny, black feathers up, beak open and ready to attack you.

“I just want to help.” You try and tell her. She squawks as you take another step forward, puffing up aggressively. You can tell by her wonky movements that she’s injured. Especially her left-wing, which is bent oddly and has only a few feathers on it.

You wince. That’s not good. Birds need their wings to survive, especially in the wild. But forget about the wild, she won’t survive the _night_ unless you get them warm. 

You slowly scoot around the nest, followed by the beady black eye of the mother bird, and fetch a few large towels from the bathroom. Coming back to the nest, you crouch by it, holding your hands out in a passive motion. 

“I want to help you. Please let me help you?”

She caws at you, snapping at your hands. 

You slowly inch your hands towards the nest. She pecks and stabs at the towel, but her talons and beak dig harmlessly into the fabric. When you lift her she becomes hysterical, cawing madly and thrashing in your arms. Something sharp pokes through the cutting, cutting into your palm. You hiss. 

“Ok, ok, ok, I know, I know, I know.” You soothe her, wrapping her snugly into the towel. Her protests die down as you wrap her up, but she’s still agitated when you set her down by the heater. 

Next up, the chicks. Working as fast as you can, you take each of them out of the raggedy, soaked nest, cocooning them with multiple blankets in a makeshift nest. You place them next to their mother, cranking the temperature up all the way. 

Alright. That takes care of the shivering. 

You take a look at your bloody palm. It’s just a small scratch, nothing major thankfully. You dig around your supplies, taping and securing a piece of gauze against your hand to stop your blood from getting everywhere. 

With that done, you move onto food. You scoop up a bit of your leftover spam into a cup, mixing it with water until it’s spongey. Ideally, you’d like to have some insects or seeds to give them, but you don’t have a lot to work with. You just hope this won’t kill the chicks.

Taking your water-spam mix, you spend the next half hour feeding the birds and their mother. It’s difficult and messy, but eventually, you finish. You change the wet towels for new ones, throwing them along with your wet clothes and the old nest into the bathroom.

You change and clean your hand properly before flopping back into bed, exhausted and overwhelmed with what just happened. 

That was...a thing. You roll onto your stomach, staring in the dark at the little creatures nestled in the corner of your room. You always had a soft side for animals. They were so...innocent. Unlike humans. (Or demons, whatever.) 

This side of yourself is new. You were so used to being...bad. Shooting things, hurting things, _destroying things._ Which, as cool and as badass as it looked, it didn’t always feel good. 

This? This felt _good_ . And it felt natural. Like you were _meant_ to do it. 

You pull back the sheets and snuggle into bed. You’re just about to close your eyes when a faint glow in the room makes them crack open. Again, your immediate thought is _ghost_ (curse that pamphlet you read…) but you quickly realize it’s not coming from anything supernatural. 

It’s coming from your bow. _Your bow_ is glowing. 

Just faintly, and it’s only the area near the middle, right where the crescent moon symbol is, but it’s glowing nonetheless. 

You blink at it, reaching out and grabbing it. 

“Proud of me?” You ask teasingly. To your shock, the bow hums in your hands, a small increase in vibration than what it normally does. 

“Oh...well...thank you?”

It’s vibrations decrease until you can no longer feel it. You stare at it, rubbing your hand over the symbol. 

Odd.

You continue staring at it, holding it close to your body until your eyelids grow heavy and you slip into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

You wake up the next morning to a violent chirping. One chick is unmoving, two of them aren’t looking too good, and the third is screaming at you for food. 

Their mother is unresponsive, even when you gently shake her. You had hoped that she’d at least recover a bit, so she could feed her babies, but she only seems to have worsened through the night. Her eyes are glassy and her chest rises and falls with a lot of effort. 

You check the pulse of the unmoving chick and feel nothing. They’re dead. 

With a heavy heart, you remove them from the nest, wrapping them in a blanket and placing them in an opposite corner of the room. It feels...bad to just throw their body out. You’ll keep it for now, until you know what to do with it. 

You feed the birds, give them some water, and re-adjust the blankets to make sure their temperatures are ok before heading out for breakfast. 

When you return, one chick, the hyperactive one, is still peeping its head off. 

The day is spent in a state of unease. You switch between fretting over the birds, which you think are some form of crow or raven, to fiddling around your room, to looking out onto the balcony. Outside, the storm continues to rage. 

Supper rolls around before you know it. When you return for a second time, you come back to see that the hyperactive chick was chirping because they were _injured_. Something’s wrong with their internal anatomy, blood blotches areas of their chest and mats their feathers. The chick’s peeps quiet down over the next few hours and eventually fade altogether. You remove him from the nest, wrapping him up with his sibling. 

Two dead. Three on death's door.

* * *

For two days, you have hope. For two days, you think they’ll all survive. 

Then one morning, you wake to find both the mother and one of the two remaining chicks have passed away in your sleep. 

You wish you never said anything about being proud of saving them. All you’ve managed to do is get them killed. 

You wrap them both up with the rest of their family. The stench of death has spread through your cabin to where you can’t keep them around any longer. Regretfully, you bag them up tightly in the trash and give it to the cleaning employee when she makes her rounds. 

“Please don’t die.” you murmur to the last chick, frail and barely alive. 

One left. One precious chick left. 

* * *

You monitor the last chick with every ounce of concentration that you have. 

A day passes. Then two. By the end of your first week, you let yourself breathe a sigh of relief. 

Now that you’re able to think better, you’re hit with a sudden idea. You’re surprised you haven’t thought of this sooner. You scramble for your encyclopedia, flipping through the bird section to try and find what kind of species your newly adopted bird is. You eventually find it under the section titled ‘Greed Circle’

_METAL BIRD. Unoriginally named from their partly metal bodies. Under their top coat of feathers lies a row of metal feathers, which they fling and use to defend themselves from attackers. Once they’ve fully matured, their talons and beaks also retain the hardness of the strongest steel._

Those metal feathers must have been what cut your finger when you reached for them the first time. 

“Since the boat docks in the greed circle, your mom probably made her nest when the ship was stationary and got stuck when it took a trip all the way across the ocean.” You gently pull at the wings of the chick. Sure enough, under the first layer of fluff lies small metal pieces, jutting out from the skin. “You’ve had a rough beginning, huh?”

The chick’s feather’s ruffle and you release their wing. 

“Sorry.” 

You go back to the book, comparing the chick you have to the images in the book.

“I think you’re...male…not that it matters what gender you are,” you say to your bird, stroking the fine layer of fluff that’s formed over his body. “But, I was wondering, now that we know you’re not gonna die, what should we name you?”

He looks up at you, cocking his head to one side.

“Crow? No, that’s too plain.”

He blinks at you. 

“Noir? No, that’s lame as well.”

The bird nibbles at the page of your book, much more interested in eating that than listening to you talk. 

“Oh, I’ve got it!” You point to a section on the page. “You’re closely related to a raven, so what about Corveous? Based on the scientific name for a raven, _Corvus corax?_ ” 

He chirps at you. It’s not really a ‘yes!’ chirp, but that solidifies your answer. 

“Corveous it is, then!”

Newly-named Corveous caws to be fed, then promptly falls asleep on you afterwards. Drowsiness overcomes you as well. You fluff the pillows and adjust the blankets in your little makeshift nest, gently moving Corverous to be tucked in your shirt. 

Curling up in your nest, with Corvus Close to your heart, you fall asleep. 

* * *

Corveous grows _fast_. Like. Really fast.

In about a month, he goes from looking like a raw chicken nugget to a fully feathered, _fully flying_ , bird of prey. 

He becomes restless, flying around your room and begging you to get out. You’re hesitant to let him, as the circle of Anger is rough and the weather isn’t kind, but eventually, you break and let him out for a run.

He’s only gone for a half-hour, but you swear it was the longest thirty minutes of your life. 

When he does return, you smother him with affection and love. He’s thoroughly soaked. But other than that, he’s perfectly fine.

You let him out more frequently over time. The amount of time he stays out becomes longer, too. 

Because you’re worried sick for your newly adopted child, you take a good two weeks to train him to come when you whistle. It’s a simple two whistle melody, and while you hope to eventually add more whistles for other commands, it's a start.

You’re overjoyed when Corveous comes back after you whistle for the first time. 

“Good boy Corveous! You’re a very good boy!”

Corveous soaked up the praise, cooing and tilting his neck when you scratch his chin feathers. 

Around his second week of outside flying, he begins to bring you back gifts. Shiny bottle caps, a piece of string, and other knickknacks he found from somewhere in that vast, island-dotted ocean. 

Once again, you fall into a routine.

Wake up. Get breakfast. Feed Corveous. Let him out for a run. Occupy yourself with watching the ocean, or re-reading your plant/ animal encyclopedia. Let Corverous back in. Spend some time with him. Eat supper with Corverous. More bird time. Fall asleep. Repeat.

Your cabin may be boring and cramped, but with Corveous, the months begin to fly by. 

* * *

Near the end of your journey, specifically after five months, he begins shedding his feathers. 

It’s endearing at first. You feel like a parent collecting their child’s first lost tooth, but soon the charm wears off.

His feathers get _everywhere_. And they stick to everything. With every breath you take, you get a mouthful of fluff in the process. Not only do his soft feathers are shed, but the metal ones fall out as well. 

You sit on your balcony, examining a few you picked up from the carpet. They vary in size, but all of them are long, sharp, and strong as hell. You gaze at your reflection in one of them, tilting the blade this way in that. 

“And you can throw these, Corveous?” You ask. 

He nibbles at his coat, sending a spray of feathers off the boat’s edge. 

Well, you _think_ he can throw them. From what your book told you, Metal Birds use their wings when in combat. But he hasn’t needed to fight anything when you’re here to feed him. 

“That’s not good. I’d rather you knew how to fight, even if it’s mostly for defence.”

Corveous blinks at you, then without warning, takes off into the sky.

“Hey - where are you going?”

You watch as he soars through the air. He circles around an area near the ocean, gazing into the water before dropping like a rock. There’s a splash, a shimmer of metal, then he’s flapping his wings viciously, returning to you with a fish between his talons. 

You gape as he drops the fish onto the balcony, proudly shaking his feathers. 

“So you _can_ understand me!”

He caws at you, nudging the fish over towards your chair. You set his feathers aside on the table and pick up the fish.

“For me?”

He caws. 

You smile. “Thank you, Corv.” 

Corveous hops on your shoulder as you enter your cabin. While you don’t end up eating the fish, he does, going to bed with a full stomach and a boosted pride. 

* * *

On the last day of your journey, you wake to an announcement blaring over the intercom. 

_“We have now docked at the Port of Greed. The time is currently 3:04 am. The annual extermination has already passed, and you are free to disembark on your own merit. I repeat…”_

You blink the sleep away from your eyes, listening to the announcement repeat itself. 

The extermination is over? Just...like that? Wow, that’s...a bit underwhelming, honestly. That means it’s been one year since you’ve died. The anniversary of your death and you slept right through it. 

_One year._ Fuck. 

Corveous stirs. He’s sleeping on your stomach, head tucked into his plumage of feathers. He stretches, wings ruffling, and preens a few stray feathers. 

"Morning, Corv," you yawn, petting his head with your finger. 

Corveous coos at your touch, leaning into your hand. As much as you would normally love to sleep in, you’ve had 6 months of sleeping in, and you’re ready to get _off_. 

“Up, up, up, let’s go!” You announce, throwing the blankets off of you. Corveous tumbles off of your chest, squawking in indignation. 

You pack. Corevous hops around the room, from your shoulders to your desk and back on your shoulders. Rude awakening aside, he’s excited to be leaving. Once everything is collected, you grab your bow and whistle the two-tone melody. He flies straight onto your shoulder. 

“Good boy!” You reward him with a leftover piece of meat from last night’s dinner. One of the many things you will _not_ miss from the ship. 

“It feels like yesterday you were just a wrinkled little birdie, shivering in a nest made of garbage.” You say to him, brushing his coat. He’s gotten so _big_. And heavy, too. “You ready to go, bud?”

He nibbles at your finger, hungry for more. You chuckle, booping the tip of his beak. 

Despite all that waits for you outside the walls of your cabin and despite all the dangers Hell holds, for the first time in a long time, you feel _excited_ to go back into the world. 

Bow in hand, bird on your shoulder, you walk off the ship and into the circle of Greed. 

…

..

.

Unbeknown to you, lagging behind you, is _someone_. Someone who's following you. 

* * *

_Heaven._

The angel can’t get anything done today. 

It’s a beautiful day outside. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the sun shining down through the trees is warm, but not hot. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees, parting the angel’s long hair. It’s perfect. 

They’re sitting under the shade of a pomegranate tree, a scroll of parchment open in their lap. They _were_ supposed to be writing an essay about the meaning of laws in society. Why rules are in place, why they’re important, and why they must remain that way. But they keep getting distracted. 

The first reason was that the extermination just finished. A team of exterminators returned earlier from their mission, taking off their helmets and stripping their sweat-soaked grey uniforms. All the students were so excited to ask them questions about the event, but the Great Vestal had made it clear that no one was going to ask anything until class was over. 

Now that it was lunch, everyone was chatting in groups, shoving pieces of fruit and scarfing down bites of sandwiches between their words. The angel wasn’t interested in talking about the events of the extermination. Not since their first (and hopefully, last) time participating in one last year.

The second reason for their distraction is something more simple. 

Their attention is drawn to a group of girls, fellow students who sit a few yards away under a large persimmon tree. Every time they force their eyes on the paper, inevitably, their gaze is dragged back towards a certain student.

Her name is Kore (Not that they go by names at the sanctum) and she’s stunning. Her skin is a warm cream colour and she has freckles that sprinkle every inch of her skin. Her hair shines in the sunlight, giving her a warm fuzz to her. The angel finds their eyes coming to her lips, her hands, every part of her body. Kore catches them staring and the angel hurriedly looks away.

The angel's cheeks heat up with embarrassment, palms growing sweaty. 

Romantic relationships of any kind are forbidden at the sanctum. The student’s chosen pathways aren’t ones in which matrimony is destined. 

Besides, a relationship between them would be... _disgraceful_. 

That thought makes the fuzzy feelings in their stomach die. Memories from their life on earth come back to them.

They never liked boys. Not in the way that most of their peers did. So when they started feeling attractions towards girls...well…

Their family didn’t take it well.

The angel rubs their eyes, biting back tears. That was a lifetime ago, time to focus on the now. The essay. The sanctum. 

_Why do we have rules?_

_To have order and safety._ They write. 

_To force people to live a certain way._ They actually think. 

_What would people do without rules?_

_There would be chaos. It would be like how Hell is governed._ They write. 

_They’d live however they want._ They think, throat tight and jaw clenching. _They’d love whoever they wanted._

The nub of the pen breaks through the paper. The angel keeps writing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda simple and plain because I wanted to introduce the reader's new hunting bird in a way that did it justice. Plus I think it's good for things to just be...relaxed...for once? Without there being constant pain or angst every second. 
> 
> Speaking of, I always wanted the reader to get their own pet/ animal just like how Angel has Fat Nuggets. And I love birds, so there you go. 
> 
> And now, some more lore shit I got way into.  
> The 5th circle is the anger/ wrath circle. It's heavily influenced by dante's inferno, which says that the fifth circle was a violent ocean with corpses lining the bottom of it. I've actually got every circle planned/ structured to have their own environments. I don't know exactly if we'll see them ALL, but I've got the ideas for them nonetheless. The Von Eldritch family is in charge of this circle, you can see photos of them in Pilot in the Hotel. (Charlie has a photo with Seviathan von Eldritch from when they were dating/ in highschool)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Twitter:randomrosewrite  
> Tumblr: randomrosewrites


	20. The monologue of the demon hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the fourth circle, Greed. A circle of dry grasslands mixed with mountain plateaus and hidden caves. 
> 
> The reader is reminded of their past and shaken about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Ana for proofreading this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did ;)
> 
> Thank you for 700+ Kudos! < 3

“F-fuck, how much longer is this tunnel?” 

You blow onto your trembling fingertips, tightening the hood of your coat around your head. You’d been walking for a few hours now, passing through a cave system that was (supposedly) supposed to take you through the middle of a plateau and into the mouth of a grand canyon. A thin layer of ice coats the dark rock, your breath coming in thick, white puffs. It’s way too cold to hold the metal bow, so you have it clipped onto your belt. It bangs against your thigh with every step you take. The chill numbs the tips of your toes, fingers, and nose, but you’re not as worried about yourself as you are for your companion. 

Corveous is curled up in the hood of your jacket, clinging to your neck for warmth. His feathers are fluffed up for warmth, rubbing against the side of your face.

“You good, buddy?” You put a finger next to his beak and he nibbles on it. He’s alright for now, but you don’t know how much longer that’ll last. You need to get out as soon as you can. 

The ears perched on your head twitch, picking up on the faintest of taps coming from behind you. You stop, the crunch of ice underneath your shoe echoing throughout the cave. 

Silence. 

Corv’s’ head pokes out of your hood, clicking in question. 

You narrow your eyes, slowly turning around. “Do you hear somethin-”

Suddenly, your foot slips on ice and slides out from underneath you. You yelp as you fall backwards, hitting your back hard and sliding down the pathway of ice You tumble in a heap of limbs and feathers, the world flipping upside down multiple times.

The wind is knocked out of your lungs and Corveous wings smother your face once you come to a stop on a level surface. 

“...oww…” you groan, sitting up. Corveous pulls himself out of your hood, grunting in annoyance. 

“Anything broken?” You ask. 

He caws, perching himself on top of your head. 

“Good.” 

You get to your feet, rolling your sore shoulder and looking up at the large incline you just rolled down from. It’s large and steep - no wonder you feel for so long. Dusting yourself off, you turn to look at the tunnel ahead. It widens a good hundred feet ahead to where you can see a prick of sunlight poke out from the rock.

The exit. Finally. 

With some soreness as you walk, you exit the cave, both of you breathing a sigh of relief the second you’re out in the open. 

The sun is just coming up over the horizon as Corveous spreads his wings and takes off, gliding along with the natural currents higher and higher up. It’s his first time flying in his natural habitat and he’s clearly enjoying himself. You watch him, smiling.

You continue your walk into the canyon. But something about the noise you heard in the cave still bugs you. Occasionally you look over your shoulder, watching the mouth of the cave to see if anyone comes out.

Nothing does. You keep watching anyway, unable to shake the sense of unease. 

* * *

If you could describe the circle of Greed in one word, it would be _wide_.

Flat mountain plateaus cover the entire circle, cut up by the various, thick, network of canyon strips. Parts of the environment give way to long grassy plains and clusters of high, woody trees that hold birds that look just like Corevous. Bushels of small shrubs and plants poke out of the dry cracks of the ground or grow off of the rounded rock, making it seem more alive and lush than the circle of Envy. 

Corveous thrives in the environment. He soars the natural tailwinds during the day, scouting for food from above, and nests in the trees at night, insistent that you join him on his perch as well. 

You’re actually not a bad climber - whether that’s experience from working for Vox or just because you’re a raccoon, you don’t know. But you’re more than happy to get off the ground at night, nesting in a fork of a tree with Corevous either sleeping on your stomach or perched beside you, looking out over the world. 

Unfortunately, not everything is as great as you’d hope it to be. 

The feeling of paranoia you had about being followed had only increased the further you continued into Gluttony. Especially after what happened yesterday. 

You and Corveous were climbing up a trail that took you higher up one of the plateaus, walking along the thin paths that weaved up towards the top. The pathway in front of you had eroded suddenly, forcing you to turn back and take a different trail up. That’s when you noticed it. 

It was about 50 metres behind you, whatever it was, it wasn’t fast enough to get out of your sight. A blur of white that disappeared around the edge of the plateau rocks. At first, you had wanted to believe it was an animal of some kind. If you didn’t have the encyclopedia, you might have even believed it was just that. Except it couldn’t be. Because there was not a _single_ creature in Greed that was naturally white. Not one. 

So not an animal. Then maybe a demon? Another traveller like yourself? But that didn’t seem right either. If they were just some travellers, why hide from you? No, whoever or whatever this is, they clearly didn’t want to be seen by you. 

After that interaction, you’d done everything you could to mask your trail. You looped around the areas you walked, you changed directions sharply every once and a while, you hiked upstream to cover your footsteps. You think you’ve lost them, but you can’t be too sure. 

You play with one of Corv’s’ metal feathers, twirling it around in one hand. Said bird is sleeping beside you, softly snoring with every exhale. The sun’s up again, which means it’s time to rest. You feel bad about travelling early in the evenings and at night, as birds aren’t nocturnal, but Corveous hasn’t seemed to mind so far. 

Stroking Corv’s forehead, you curl beside him for your own nap. You’ll reach the nearest town tomorrow. If someone is following you, you’ll be sure to find out and shake them there. 

* * *

You don’t even get to the town before you have your answer. 

The afternoon sun hangs high in the sky, scorching your skin as you run down a dirt road.

Your shoes kick up clouds dust each time your feet pound the ground, choking your throat and sprouting tears in your eyes. The bandanna tied around your neck to protect your skin from the sun is fully soaked with sweat and your entire body is boiling under your clothes. 

It’s awful, but you don’t dare stop or turn around for a second. The hunter chasing after you is hot on your heels. You can’t see him but you can feel his eyes on the back of your neck. You force yourself to run faster.

He had struck when you were asleep. You’re grateful that you had one of Corv’s feathers curled in your hands, otherwise you might not have had the chance to attack your pursuer and get away. 

The people of the old, western down stare at you, quizzical looks on their faces. Some of them even scoot out of your way. You pass by people with spiked cowboy boots, barely avoid women with bonnets wrapped over their hair, and leap over parked carriages pulling horses. 

You know you’ll have to stop eventually - your legs are starting to shake with extrusion and your lungs have been screaming for air for the past ten minutes - but all the windows and doors of the buildings that line the street are boarded up, protecting the residents from the awful desert sun.

As you round the corner a sickle slices at your ankles, barely missing the skin. It sinks into a barrel on the opposite end of the street, amber ale spouting from the hole. You pump your arms, bow gripped in one hand, and force your wobbly legs to run faster. 

An old fashion salon stands at the end of the road, toughs for water placed to the side of the entrance. You jump over the steps leading up to the salon, barrelling through the swinging doors, and leap over the bar counter. The barkeep stars at you, mouth open in confusion. You’ve just taken cover underneath the bar when a spray of bullets whiz over your head. The barkeep crumples to the ground, riddled with bloody holes. 

“If you know what’s good for you, _get out._ ” Your pursuer states to everyone in the room. You hear a scraping of chairs, breaking of glass, and the swinging of the wooden doors before the room goes silent again. 

You press yourself as low as you can, back cutting into the sharp edges of an old milk crate. The room is silent once more, all but the sound of an old jukebox playing polka music crackles through the air.

You don’t know why, but the image of Alastor briefly comes to mind. 

A scraping sound echoes through the room, something metal dragging against the wood floor. You force yourself to take quiet, short breaths even though you want nothing more than gulp in lungfuls of air. The action makes you lightheaded

“We can play this game all day, you know,” The hunter’s voice taunts, slowly making his way to your hiding place. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

In a broken mirror, you spot his reflection. You grimace at what’s there. 

He’s similar in appearance to Angel Dust, tall and thin, but that’s where the resemblance stops. His fur is entirely white, speckled with bits of brown and grey. A greasy fedora hangs low over his eyes, tinged a dull colour of yellow with flecks of brown in it. They’re fixed on your position, gazing intently. 

A shiver goes down your spine and you clench your jaw until your ears pop. You _recognize_ him. His name is _Ripper_ and he’s a famous demon hunter. 

Hell was a place where most people had at least one enemy but not everyone wanted to get their hands dirty. That’s where assassins and contract killers, like Ripper, came in handy. People paid them to kill someone and they did. And not just fake kill, but _actually_ kill them. 

You’d only heard about Ripper a few times back when you were working with Vox. He has a knack for tracking down anyone - _anyone_ \- and finishing the job. 

Which means you’re in deep shit if he’s been hired to kill you.

“I’ve taken out thousands of demons, little raccoon,” Ripper says. His footsteps are getting closer to your hiding spot. “Why delay the inevitable?”

Twirling from one long finger in his hand is a sickle, the blade most likely coated with some form of Angelic-remnant. 

True Angelic Weapons were made up entirely of Angelic metal. But for people in Hell, using a weapon that was purely made of Angelic metal was a waste. For efficiency, they would melt down the weapons into a liquid and dip their non-angelic weapons into it. The result was a normal non Angelic weapon having a coating of Angelic metal, giving it the ability to kill a demon. The only downfall was that the weapon would have to be re-coated as the layer of Angelic metal wore down.

The sickle Ripper holds is shiny and new, polished to a painful gleam. One good cut to a major vein or artery and its game over for you. 

You need to act fast and soon, otherwise, he’s gonna be on top of you in an instant. You grip the bow tightly in your knuckles, the form wavers slightly. 

“Fine.” He sighs. He pulls up a chair and sits down on it, arms crossed over the back of it. “Shall we go over what we both know?” 

He counts off the points, on one hand, starting with one finger. 

“One. Thievery. That’s probably the least of your problems. There were reports from various mercenary groups and gangs in Envy of their possessions randomly going missing. It wasn’t enough for anyone to really do anything, but it was enough to make them pretty pissed. Don’t you know how much Envy _hates_ thieves? If anyone found out it was you that stole from them, your hands would be cut off at best.”

He puts up a second finger. 

“Two. Sabotage and Murder. It’s been kept out of the mainstream news, so the public doesn’t know about this, but a little more than a year ago, two intruders breached the private basement of the Three V Skytree and caused a lot of damage. Not only that, but one guard was killed in the process. Alastor, the Radio Demon, is the first intruder. And I believe you are the second. They could put you on trial for that if they really wanted to.”

The idea makes you pause. Shit, you didn’t think of it that way. All you had thought at the moment was revenge and getting through the last hours you had as a human. If Vox was feeling sadistic enough, he _could_ put you on trial. The law system in Hell was pretty shitty and never regularly enforced, but it could still happen. Especially if an overlord wanted it to happen. _Gods_ know what your punishment would be if someone as powerful as him was in control. 

“Three. Conspiring against an Overlord. You pissed off someone very powerful. Not only that, but you went against one that has _your soul_ and collaborated with his archenemy. Those things don’t just go away after you die, you know.”

You physically shudder and stop breathing for a few seconds. The image of the TV man’s cocky smile appears in your mind. _Vox_.

You hadn’t expected to escape your past after what you did, but being reminded of him after such a long break from his presence is like being slapped in the face. Vox is still out there in Hell. Maybe he’s even why Ripper is here now, killing you as punishment for everything you’ve done... 

Ripper continues; “Four. Unauthorized use of...well, actually, maybe I won’t say that. Ruins the surprise.” There’s a creak of wood, him standing up. “Now enough talk, little raccoon. You ready to show yourself?”

You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. 

“Yeah. I am.” You whistle as loud as you can, a sharp, two-note piercing screech. Ripper barely has time to process what’s happening before the thunk of metal feathers hitting their mark reaches your ears. 

You emerge from the bar. Sharp feathers stick into Ripper’s back, poking out over his shoulder. Behind him, hovering outside the saloon doors in full attack mode is Corveous. 

He gives a caw, flying up as one of Ripper’s sickles aimed for him misses. 

“Good boy, Corveous,” you whisper to yourself. “You’re _so_ good. Thank you.” 

You rush towards Ripper, bow clenched in one hand. You thrust it forwards, anticipating it turning into a spear. But the bow doesn’t change. It pokes him in the chest harmlessly, leaving you feeling stupid and in deep trouble. 

Well...fuck. 

“Really, that’s the best you’ve got!?” Ripper laughs, countering your next blow with the end of his sickle. 

You soon realize just how much more fighting experience Ripper has over you. He avoids one of your attacks, using that chance to grip your wrist and strike you in the back of your neck. Black spots blur in your vision and the bow loosens from your grasp as you lose your balance. Your forehead smacks against the floor and next thing you know, Ripper has one of your arms pinned behind your back, face smushed into the floor.

You suppose he isn’t a notorious demon hunter for nothing. 

You hear him kick out, sending the bow to the other side of the room. “I thought you were supposed to be a former employee of Vox, but you're _awful_ in hand-to-hand-combat.” 

You’re about to throw out a witty remark when the edge of his blade meets the back of your neck. Your heartbeat quickens. 

_This is it._ You think. _He’s going to kill me. I’m gonna die._ You close your eyes, waiting for the pierce of his blade against your skin. But nothing happens.

You crack your eyes open. He’s staring at you, almost waiting for you to do something. 

Whatever the reason it is, he’s hesitated. With your free hand, you reach out towards the bow. It flies towards you, successfully transforming into a sharp spear when you grasp it. The pointed end jabs backwards, towards Ripper, and he jumps away just at the last second, the fabric of his collar ripping against your spear. 

You scramble to your feet before he has a chance to gain his bearings and tackle him to the ground, stepping on his chest and pressing the tip of your spear to his throat.

“Who sent you?” you spit. “Tell me!”

He blinks up at you, smiling languidly. A smooth cackle escapes his lips. “Is this all that you have to say?”

You tighten your grip. “Answer me!”

“You’re not threatening anyone with that thing, sweetheart.”

You growl, pressing the edge of his spear furthering into the column of his throat. He tilts his neck up for you obediently, which only angers you further. “ _Who_?”

“I’m not just going to tell you the name of my employer.”

“That seems unfair. You know everything about me and I can’t know a single thing about the demon sent to kill me?”

“Fiery. But I’m here for that. In fact, I’m not authorized to kill you. Just know that I’ve got all I need to know.”

Not authorized to kill? That’s even worse. You gulp. “You’ve got all you need to know? What does that mean?” 

His form wiggles. At first, you think it’s your eyes are playing tricks on you but that’s quickly proven wrong when you feel something gooey against your skin. Ripper’s skin is sagging on itself, dripping into grey droplets, forming a large puddle underneath you. You gasp, jerking back from him. 

He’s _melting_. 

It must be some sort of ability he has. As you stand there, in shock of what to do, he smirks. 

“One parting thought: For someone to send _me_ after you, little raccoon, you must have _really_ fucked up somehow.” The edges of his face melt away, distorting his eyes and lips. “Goodbye, little raccoon, pray to _god_ you don’t see me again.”

With a whistle and a shoot of his fingers, the rest of his body disintegrates, leaving nothing but a wet puddle of goop on the floor. 

You sit back on your heels in stunned silence. What the fuck. 

Corveous’ caw from outside makes your head snap up. Right. You should probably get out of here. Think later. 

The spear transforms back into a bow. You hook it over your shoulder as you exit, jogging along the dirt road. You block the sun with your hand and squint up. Corveous’ silhouette is framed against the sky. You whistle and he swoops down, landing on your arm. You give him a good scratch on his neck. 

“You were such a good boy back there, thank you.” 

He caws in happiness, wings flapping with glee. 

Your jog slows to a walk as you exit town, having no intention of sticking around for whatever question the townspeople may ask. You probably should stop and rest - you didn’t get much sleep last night because of Ripper’s interruption - but you want to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Even if he’s long gone. 

As dirt roads fade into dry grasslands, your thoughts go back to Ripper and the issue he’s presented. 

Who employed him? Vox is the obvious guess, but if he did, what’s his purpose? Ripper didn’t come to kill so...so what else could he have wanted? A confirmation of some sort? Maybe something you have? The bow?

 _The bow._ You frown at it. During your fight, it didn’t transform at first. Is there some reason behind that or do you just not know how to control it? You still don’t know much about it despite being acquainted with it for over a year. 

If Ripper wanted the bow he could have easily taken it from you. But he didn’t. So that means he didn't want it?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, plucking at the string with anxiety. That just brings you back to square one. 

You take a break once you’re a few miles away from town. Corveous preens himself on your outstretched legs and you watch him. As he’s fixing his skewen feathers, a disturbing idea dawns on you. 

Somebody who hires a demon hunter, especially one like _Ripper_ , has to be on the same level as an Overlord. 

So if Vox _didn’t_ send Ripper…

Someone very, _very_ powerful is interested in you. 

* * *

_The seventh circle, Violence._

Things are quite a mess.

Alastor’s brow is furrowed as he inspects what used to remain of one of his radio towers. It was one of his favourites, being located in Wonderland, the crazy-violent mess of a place where demons from all over came for a bit of gore-ish fun. 

Wonderland is in an even greater state of disaster than it normally is. Tents and buildings have been blasted apart or torn up, smoke still coming off of the remains. The ground has been torn up in certain areas, leaving rubble and stone strewn across the streets. Certain parts remain fairly untouched but others have been demolished completely.

Just like his radio-tower.

The ears on the top of Alastor’s head twitch as the flapping of wings sound from behind him. He stands up, cracking his knees, and turns to greet his partner. 

“No trace of Vox or any of his men,” Husk says, wings snapping shut behind him. The feline was less than pleased to be dragged outside of the city to do work, but he still begrudgingly follows Alastor’s orders to a T. “How’s your thing?”

“My radios and communication have been wiped out for this entire circle,” Alastor says, grinding his teeth together. “That _bastard_.” 

Alastor is a man with few sentimental values, but Wonderland held one of them. It was, after all, where he was first dubbed with his title of ‘Radio Demon’. 

Alastor turns back to the pile of rubble, digging through it with his microphone. “On the bright side, rebuilding it won’t be an issue.” He bends down and pulls out a pair of taxidermied deer antlers from the pile. “No sir.” 

The only issue is that if he does rebuild it, Vox would probably just return to knock it back down again, and that’d just make Alastor even more pissed off. But he needs to get the tower back and running, even if the effort is futile in the end.

Restore. Attack. Rebuild. So on and so forth. That’s really all what war is, for both sides - endless quarrelling. 

But this fight won’t go on forever. There will be an end to it, but right now, the purpose isn’t to win.

It’s to stall for _time_.

Alastor looks to the sky as the wind tousles his hair. Soon. Things will change soon. 

And so, the war continues...

* * *

The fourth circle: Greed. 

You hike a few miles into a nearby forest before calling it quits, mentally and physically exhausted. Corveous has already settled down in the trees, but you’re restless and can’t sleep.

You pace the ground, walking in circles and gripping onto your bow tightly. The reminder of Vox shook you up more than you’d like to admit, bringing anxiety-inducing thoughts to your mind. 

You stop and roll up your sleeve, revealing the grey bonding mark imprinted onto your skin. You’d tried to keep it covered up since you left Pentagram City - out of sight out of mind - because as you look at it now you feel utterly disgusted, wanting to tear at your skin and rip the mark off of your body. You resist the urge. The mark is a reminder of your foolish decision to give you soul away. A reminder you _chose_ for this to happen to you. Until you die or, _ridiculously_ , you somehow manage to free your soul from Vox’s grasp. 

You roll your sleeve down and go back to pacing and worrying. 

What if Vox finds you? What if you run into him again? What is he gonna do to you? What will he do to _Corveous_? 

The last thought makes you feel sick and angry. Not Corveous. He can have _you_ all he wants, but if he harms your bird, you’re going to kill him.

Will you be able to kill him though? He’s a powerful overlord with powerful connections. In reality, he could probably cook Corveous up for thanksgiving and eat him in front of you and you wouldn't be able to stop him.

You pace some more. Worry a lot more. Vox. Vox. Vox. You’ve had so many complicated feelings for him, all of which you didn’t want to sort through today. Or at all. The thought of Vox brings back the memories with him. Most are fuzzy and unclear, but others are so sharp it feels as if you’re reliving them. 

Cuts, bruises, Vox, broken bones, blood, the bright blue light he emitted from his screen, gashes, tears, Vox, the taste of bile in your mouth, the feelings of turning into a solder, Vox trivia torture, Angel’s red face, being yelled at, being alone, Vox. 

You whimper, crouching down on your haunches and covering your head with your arms. The memories intrude in your brain, refusing to go away. No matter how far you run, you’ll always be attached to him, the bonding mark on your forearm a reminder of that. Trapped. _Shackled_. Never truly free, your life never truly your own. 

And now with whatever the Hell Ripper’s employer is, you’re in danger again. 

You’re always in danger. Always running towards or away from the next crisis that pops up. Nothing is ever truly safe in Hell, and you’re sick and tired of it. Sometimes you just want to take a bullet in your head or down a bottle of pills and be done, but that too is taken from you. 

It wouldn’t give you _death_ , it would just make you hurt more. 

You suddenly feel very tired. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don’t want to go on feeling like there’s something worse around the corner, you don’t want to keep living when you don’t even know what you’re living for-

Your thoughts are interrupted as a familiar bird lands on top of your head, talons curling in your hair and chest pushing your ears down. You lower your arms from your head to look up at Corveous.

“Oh…uh...hey buddy, what’s wrong…?”

He hops down your shoulder and onto your arm, poking his nose in the gap between your legs and chest. 

Oh. 

You make some room and he wriggles his way into your lap. You shift your body and wrap your arms around him so that the two of you are snuggled together in a snug ball. Corveous gives a click of content.

Oh…

You stay like that for a while, staring out into the dark, stroking Corveous’ feathers. It’s very calming. The longer you hold him, the more you can feel the tension in your body leaving you, being seeped out of your bones the longer you pet him. 

He was so brave earlier. So brave and so reliable. When Ripper had attacked you in your sleep, you’d gotten separated from Corveous. But he still followed you, waiting until you gave the trained signal for him to engage. 

You rest your head against him, listening to his breaths and heartbeats. A little snore escapes him and your heart melts instantly. Right then and there you decide you love him. You love him and you’ll do _anything_ you can to keep him safe, even if that means going up against Vox...

When you finally do get up, your legs have fallen asleep. Careful not to wake the bird in your hands, you scale up the tree, settling on one of the branches, back against the trunk. You left the bow on the ground but it poofs beside you after you’ve settled down. 

You let your head go back and sigh. You’re still feeling anxious and your earlier feelings of hopelessness and sorrow haven’t gone away, but having Corveous in your arms helps tremendously. Just being able to have someone there - someone that _actually_ cares - makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt in a while. 

You cling to him tighter, as if he were your world, falling into a much-needed sleep. 

* * *

The demon hunter Ripper arrives at the set location half an hour early. His employer is already waiting for him, dressed in an inconspicuous travelling cloak. There’s a golden pin over their heart in the shape of two wings.

“Did you find it?” They ask, wasting no time in getting down to business. 

“Got a light?” Ripper asks, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. 

The messenger pursues their lips, eyes sharpening. “Did you _find_ it?”

“Relax, would ya? No need to rush into things.”

“I don’t have time-”

“That pin,” Ripper interrupts, lighting his own cigarette. “Hermes, right?”

The messenger freezes, drawing in a deep breath. “Correct.”

“Like Hermes, the messenger?”

“Yes.”

“So that makes you...what do they call them - _representatives_ ? Yeah? But you’re not _actually_ sent by the guy Hermes, right?”

“That information has nothing to do with this ordeal. If you’re just fooling around I’ll call this arrangement off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sighs. “You angels are no fun.”

“Now can we get back to the question? Have you found it?”

“Yeah, I found it. It was with the person you suspected it might be with.”

“Go on.”

“I’m _getting_ to that. We had a little brawl southeast of here. They had the bow and it transformed for them.”

The messenger stiffens again. “...You’re _positive_?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“I see…” the Angel ruffles into their cloak, pulling out an envelope. “Thank you. The discussed payment is in here.”

Ripper flicks ash off of his cigarette as he approaches the Angel. “Y’know, I normally don’t do this kind of thing for _your kind_.”

“We normally don’t employ _your kind_ either.” The messenger replies cooly. 

Ripper chuckles, taking the envelope. “ _Sure_ whatever.” 

* * *

The messenger for the Order of Angels hurriedly returns to the sanctum early in the morning. They are let through by guards, heading to the highest part of the temple where the doors to the meeting room stand. They push the doors inwards, revealing a luxuriously decorated room.

High elites of the sanctum are gathered around a wooden table in the middle of it, each waiting anxiously for the messenger’s return. Sitting at the head of the table is the Great Vestal, calm and collected, hands perched politely in front of them. 

The Angel’s footsteps soften as they step forward, soaking into the navy blue carpet. They drop to one knee and bow their head. “Great Vestal. I’ve found the bow.” 

“Waste no more breath,” the Great Vestal says. “Where is it?”

“It’s as the Order feared. It’s _taken_ to a demon.” 

The room is sent into a mix of shocked gasps and panicked cries. 

_“That’s impossible!”_

_“What are we going to do now?”_

_“You can’t be serious!?”_

One of the elites slams her fist into the table. “That simply can’t be. How can something of such holy, honourable likes as that bow _take_ to a filthy, disgraceful demon?”

The Great Vestal raises a hand for silence. “Where?”

“The Circle of Greed.” The messenger says.

The Great Vestal taps their fingers against the table before speaking. “If it’s taken to that demon, we have no choice but to let them keep it.” 

There’s a murmur of disagreement between the members. The elite that struck her fist against the table objects.

“But Great Vestal! Allowing something that’s been kept under the sanctum’s rule for centuries would be inconceivable!”

“I understand your concern. But if that bow has taken to a demon, we’re in no position to try and force it out of their possession. That would be a violation of both Order _and_ Scantum Laws.”

Knowing the Vestal is right, the elite sits down, biting her tongue.

“I’ll have to talk to that ancient one’s representative,” The Great Vestal says, standing up from their seat. “If they’re responsible, they’ll have to be punished for it. We can’t make any hasty judgments at this point, but please, be aware of the situation. Make no implication to them that they are under investigation.” 

“You’re referring to the maiden in charge of the crescent moon flame, correct?” One of the members asks. 

“Yes.” the Great Vestal says, a forlorn look on their face. “One of my students.”

Meeting adjourned, the members break up and disperse across the sanctum. As the Great Vestal exits the meeting room, the sun shines on their skin. They inhale the nice breeze of the sanctum, descending the steps and walking along the courtyard to the classrooms.

They had a bad feeling from the beginning. They _knew_ trusting that Angel on an extermination internship was a bad idea. But they never expected that they’d give up the sacred bow…

The Great Vestal opens the door to the classroom. The students are busy working in groups, under the instruction of another teacher. When they see the Great Vestal enter they all get up and bow, showing respect. 

“Oh, don’t mind me! Please, as you were.”

The students go back to work. What a lovely sight they are. The next generation, training to become strong, worthy representatives, perhaps even future members of the Order. It makes their chest warm with happiness. 

The Great Vestal spots the Angel they’re seeking and approaches them. The student is working as diligently as ever. They’re always so naturally quiet, preferring the sidelines to anything. But underneath that calm composure is a spark of firefly temperament that sometimes gets the better of them. 

The Great Vestal taps the angel on the shoulder. When the honoured Vestigial turns around, the Great Vestal smiles, showing no sign of the meeting they just had.

“Hello, Vagatha. Might I speak to you for a moment?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess that the angel was Vaggie? No one mentioned it in the comments before, which I was actually surprised by. I purposely didn't use she/her pronouns for Vaggie to make the twist more powerful. 
> 
> Now, some more lore stuff I've come up with  
> \- Ripper is half based on that one character who appeared in the addict music video for a split second. I had a lot of fun writing him.  
> \- The Order of Angels,or just the Order for short, is an organization that’s in charge of the major workings in heaven. in Heaven. There’s different tiers to the Order, but the one the Great Vestal is on is a relatively high posisision, they rank just underneath an Archangel (The heaven equivalent of an overlord.)
> 
> 20 chapters and over 100 000 words. Can you believe it? I know I've been dragging this story along on a wild adventure, but I hope you guys still enjoy it. More chapters with Alastor will come soon, I promise. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> twitter: randomrosewrite  
> tumblr: randomrosewrites


	21. Into the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finally arrives in gluttony. Meanwhile, things aren't looking good for Vagatha...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ana for proofreading this chapter!

_ Hell.  _

_ Third Circle, Gluttony. _

__

The border between Greed and Gluttony is very distinct and abrupt, to the point where it’s almost comical. 

You come to a stop, looking down at the map in your hand and then looking up again. “This should be it.” 

Standing in front of you is a massive sprawling forest, trees and wildlife stretching as far as you can see left and right. A frigid wind blows through the area, freeing the leaves from the trees and sending them spiralling down towards the ground. A small dirt pathway cuts through the brush, spiralling further into the thick forest. 

No signs, no ‘Welcome to Gluttony’, nothing. It’s a bit intimidating if you’re being honest. 

You tilt your head to the side. "What do you think, Corvy?" 

Corveous pokes his head out from your cloak, giving you a caw of approval. 

You stroke his beak. The bird coos in pleasure. “Well, let’s head on in there.”

Dawn begins to break as you start down the path, but the sunlight has a hard time seeping through the canopy of trees. It’s not exactly perfect for your nocturnal nature, but you decide to keep walking while you’ve still got the momentum. 

As you crush fallen leaves between your feet, Corveous takes to the sky, perching between the black-barked trees, investigating the new environment with his talons and beak. 

The part of the forest you’re walking in has a mix of (what appear to be) pine trees and maple trees. But that’s where most of the resemblance stops. The bark on the trees are charcoal black and the leaves are a bright hue of red, others shades of purple. 

The further you go into the forest, the more the life of it enraptures you. Strange plants grow around the path, bulbs, vines, and leaves of a variety of shapes. Even though there’s no demons, the forest has no shortage of life. Squirrels climb up the long tree trunks, rabbits flee into the bush, and birds chirp in the distance. 

The hard-packed soil of the path fades to a point where you’re walking on fresh vegetation. The terrain becomes tricker to traverse after that, because you have to cut down vines and climb over fallen trees. 

After a few hours of walking, you decide to stop at the side of a stream, unpacking your things and cupping water into your hands. Corveous bathes himself in the stream as well, spraying you with water when he shakes his wings. 

A berry bush sagging on the other side of the steam catches your eye, the vines of which have small, fuzzy red berries. 

You consult the encyclopedia. Look back at the berries. They seem edible, but there’s only one way to find out. 

You wade through the stream and wrap your fingers around a berry. The berry lets out a shrill cry, and even though you’re expecting it, you jump back a good five feet instinctively. 

Cautiously, tail whipping behind you, you approach the berry again, plucking it from the stem and twirling it between your fingers. The berry screams as you handle it, a single high pitched key like that of a piano. 

Oh yeah. These were  _ definitely  _ the ones from the book - Razzberries, named after their resemblance to the fruit on earth and the sound they made whenever handled. 

You squeeze the berry until it sprouts juice then rub it onto the skin of your forearm. Another safety precaution just in case the fruit really is poisonous. If you don’t get a rash, the fruit is more than likely safe to eat. 

You sit by the stream, letting the juice dry on your arm. Corveous has moved onto playing around on the trees over top of you, plucking at the different leaves.

“Having fun there, bud?” you call up to him. 

He chirps back in response. He’s very happy indeed.

After the allotted time passes and you don’t have a rash, you load your bag up with the berries, producing an awful harmony of honking. Once you’ve collected enough, you sling the bag back over your shoulder and whistle for Corveous. He floats down from his perch, settling on your head. 

“We gotta walk a bit longer before it gets dark, berry?”

He plucks a berry from your hand, swallowing it whole. To your surprise, the low-baritone note continues even inside of his stomach, muffled in sound. 

You begin the walk yet again. 

You head north, battling the rays of the setting sun, before finally stopping once you find a tall tree with a good fork in it to rest. For as exhausted as you are, you scale it with ease, going as high as you dare before settling yourself in for the night. Scaling trees have become so customary to you that you could do it with your eyes closed. 

You and Corv feast on some more berries as the sun dies out, falling asleep with him tucked into the front of your coat. 

* * *

That night, you wake to the jolting of a sharp beak. Corveous is insistently pecking at your face. You sit up, swatting at him. 

“Ow, what the-” A low moan shuts you up, followed by the snapping of twigs and shuffling of leaves, like the sound of a heavy weight being dragged against the ground. It draws closer to your tree. 

Very awake now, you slowly sit up, calling the bow into your hands. 

Whatever it is that’s moving is coming closer to you, making the leaves of the nearby bush rustle. 

You hold your breath as the thumping comes closer, and then gasp as a creature drags itself out from the bushes.

It’s like a boar, but  _ larger _ , with a massive furry back and thick hind legs. Two tusks sprout from its mouth, both of them coated in blood. You’re thankful you decided to rest so high up. 

The boar isn't able to see you from high but, but if you were lower...well, he seems like he’d be strong enough to take down the tree. Something you don’t want to test.

The boar passes you without issue, grunting fading into the quiet of the night.

You don’t fall asleep for a while after that. For the first time, you realize just how dangerous the wildlife of Hell can be, and how very,  _ very  _ alone and isolated you are. 

No phone, no nearby town for literal days. If something happened to you, there’d be no one to help you out...

You make a mental note to try and avoid the wild boars at any cost. 

* * *

You change up your schedule after the boar scare. Walking around in the forest at night is a huge no. 

So, despite the strain it puts on your eyes, you begin adventuring during the day and sleeping at night. Maybe if you were still human, it wouldn’t be a problem, but the shift is so  _ hard _ . You constantly feel tired and you’re always grumpy and irritable. 

You’re not a morning person at all.

Life falls back into its simple rhythm. Get up, walk, look for food, sleep. You haven't needed to hunt anything yet, getting by on the wild fruits and berries, but you also don’t have the arrows to do so.

You collect one of Corv’s metal feathers on the ground, storing it away in your bag. They’re something you want to experiment with once you get the chance, to see if you can somehow make arrows or find some other use for them...

After a week or two of hiking deeper into the wilderness, you come across the very thing you’ve been looking for. 

Deep within the recesses of the forest lies a hidden clearing with a deserted, old cottage squat in the middle of nowhere. The boards of the house are dilapidated and rotten, and the whole structure looks to be at least a hundred years old.

You do a quick safety check with the help of Corveous, walking around the perimeter and searching for any traps or unwanted visitors. Once you deem the place safe, you approach the crumbling deck, pushing open the rotted screen door and stepping inside.

The interior of the cottage isn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. Half of the wood has rotted from where water leaks in through the roof, mould cakes the linoleum tiles, and the hardwood floor has warped from the elements. 

It’s sparsely decorated, with a torn-up couch, a few coffee tables, and a rusty iron stove. The cottage itself is small, with only a single bedroom and bathroom off to the side, but for you, it’s just right. It's only a little smaller than your old apartment back in pentagram city.

_ The city. _ Nostalgia squeezes at your heartstrings. Oh, to have electricity and a bed to sleep on again, to have an actual  _ home _ . 

Soon, you tell yourself. Placing your hands on your hips and looking around. 

“Well, guess we better get started, right?” You say to Corveous. 

It’s not home, but it’s something.

* * *

Renovating the house takes ages. 

You begin working right away, using one of Corv’s long, study feathers to tear up the rotted sections of the house. You spent an entire day scraping what couldn't be recovered, including whatever furniture was beyond repair. What you’re left with is a half-chewed up version of the cottage, like a puzzle missing a few of its pieces. 

The next issue you came upon was getting materials to build the cottage. 

There was a rusted axe embedded into one of the stumps closest to the cottage, using that (and with the help of Corveous) you collected wood to replace the outside of the cottage and the roof, tightly fixing the logs together using a rusty bucket of nails you found inside.

After ensuring no water would leak in, you began work on the inside. 

Filling in the hardwood floor was harder. You couldn’t just use a cylindrical piece of wood, and there was no easy way for you to make a flat board without any power tools. 

So, you compromised

You took the door off to the bedroom and bathroom, cutting it up into sections to fit into the gaps. Was it perfect? No, and you had no doors, but it got the job done. 

You learned to get creative, using what the cottage had leftover and what the forest offered you. 

Spikes on a carnivorous plant worked as nails when you ran out. Tied bushels of thick-straw-like material made a broom, a thick strip of moss cut from the earth worked as a sponge.

You scrubbed the floors, cleaned the grime, dusted, swept, and then swept a second time. Got a leak in the roof, fixed the leak, had a loose board, fixed the loose boards.

Finally, after weeks of hard work, you finish. 

Wiping sweat from your brow, you flop down on the deck, watching the sunset. You're downright exhausted, and utterly filthy.

But wholly satisfied. 

Corv still isn't back yet from his flight out, so you grab a spare towel and trudge down to the stream, where you wash yourself off in the week's grime. It was cold, but after a certain point, you just learn to accept it. 

Now that you thought of it, was it colder than normal? You haven’t been to any major towns in awhile, ever since your encounter with reaper, and the days have all started to blend into one continuous loop. You think the end of the year is soon, but honestly, you’re not sure if end of the year means September or December.

As you bathe, you pluck a shiny, pink berry from one of the nearby bushes, holding it up to the sky in a faux toast. 

“To almost-two years in Hell,” you say with a hint of bitterness. 

Two years without Vox (Amazing), without Angel (not so amazing), and Alastor…

You hope he’s winning whatever war he’s fighting. 

A sagging honk fades as you crush the berry between your teeth, the sweet-tart of the juice breaking over your tongue.

A shrinking caw draws your attention up. Corv is circling above you, warning of an incoming predator. It’s a system you trained him to do. 

You wash up quickly, towelling yourself off and scurrying back to the cabin for the night. 

* * *

The next day, you woke up with a sore throat, but think nothing unusual about it. 

After eating breakfast and going out, you started to feel a headache.

Then in the afternoon, you became nauseous.

Finally, at dinner, you threw up your entire meal, a wave of nausea hitting you so hard you could barely stand.

You didn’t know what was going on, lying as the contractions of pain wracked your body. Corv was squawking at you, hopping around your pained form helplessly. 

There’s only one thing that could have caused this. 

With shaking hands, you reached for your encyclopedia, hands trembling as you flipped through the pages. 

With horror, you confirmed your worst suspicion. 

Those supposed  _ Razzberries  _ you thought you ate yesterday, while extremely similar, were actually highly toxic  _ Vileberries.  _

Just your luck you ate something poisonous.

Now, almost two days after first consuming the berries, you’re feeling horrible. You’re clammy, sweaty, and no matter what you try to put into your stomach, you always end up throwing it back up.

You’ve been careful,  _ really  _ careful since living on the run for almost two years now. But everything in Gluttony is massive. The section alone takes up a third of the pages in your encyclopedia. 

You swore the two are identical. But obviously, there’s a difference. As you’re now paying the price for it. 

You grit your teeth, using the bow as a walking staff and leaning heavily onto it. You’d thought you’d get some water from the stream a couple of yards behind the cottage, but you’d severely overestimated your strength and the poison’s effect. 

Your vision swims as you approach the door, gripping onto the wooden frame. Hands scrabbling along the wood of the door - wait, you’re already at the door? It seemed so far away and now you’re through the threshold, settling your canister of water down on the table. It falls off, banging against the floor. 

As another wave of nausea overwhelms you, the floor looks very nice to lay on... maybe you should just lay down...get some rest…

The last thing you’re able to do before your legs go numb is to sink to the floor, feeling the blissfully cool pressure of the tile against your heated cheek.

Just as you slip away, a faint ram’s horn goes off in the distance. 

And the last visible thoughts you’re able to have: Fuck.  _ The Extermination.  _

* * *

_ Heaven. In the trial room of the order.  _

_ An hour before the extermination.  _

Vagatha knows she’s messed up. She doesn’t know how the angels or the Great Vestal found out, but they have, and now she’s sitting in a chair, spotlights on her, members of the order all staring at her. 

The Great Vestal enters the room, dressed in a white and gold robe. They take their seat in the middle of the order members. “Welcome, Vagatha. Shall we go over the order of events?”

She doesn’t say anything. 

“Let’s start at the beginning,” The Great Vestal says, pulling open the files folder of papers. “You enrolled in the sanctum as a student a little over four years ago. In which, you signed up to train to become a vestal for your selected Ancient One. 

They look at Vagatha. “The Ancient One you’ve been destined to represent has a special Ancient Relic, do you remember the first time you were shown it?”

Vagatha says nothing. 

“Students aren’t trusted with their Ancient relics until they’re proper vessels, but they’re still able to view them. It helps with bonding of the student and relic.” The Great Vestal goes back to their files. “Two years you were nothing but a model student. A few issues here and there, but overall, a very good report. Then you went on an internship program with the exterminators.”

Yes, that was the first Vagatha visited Hell. With the way things are going, she knows it probably won’t be her last. 

“On this internship, you were tasked with assisting with the yearly purging of demons. It was during this event that you gave up the Ancient Bow, the  _ Bow of Artemis _ to a demon.”

The Great Vestal leans forwards, stepping their fingers. “I want to ask you something, Vagatha - why did you do it?”

Silence.

“ _ Vagatha _ ,” The Great Vestal warns. 

“They didn’t want to go to Hell,” she murmurs. 

“No one  _ wants  _ to be in Hell.” 

“This is different!” Vagatha snaps, her blood beginning to boil. “They were just human! The only reason they were sent to Hell was because of an affiliation they had with an overlord.”

“Then that is  _ their problem _ .” 

Years of obeying and submitting to unjust rules come undone at once. Her restraint shatters like a pane of glass. “Well, it  _ shouldn’t be! _ It’s all bullshit!”

“Vagatha. We’ve talked about this,” The Great Vestal sighs. “About the rules and differences between Heaven and Hell. We’ve told you why it's our duty to punish them, regardless of our feelings.”

“Oh save me that ‘ _ holier than thou _ ’ crap.” She snarls. “You say that but then don’t show an ounce of remorse for the people that are stuck in that shithole. No wonder they hate here! Even I hate it here.”

A shocked gasp echoes through the courtroom, members of the order shocked at what she’s said. 

The Vestal breathes in deeply through their nose. “That still doesn’t explain your actions.”

“ _ Oh _ . You wanna know why I did it?” She’s yelling now, unable to stop. “ I’ll tell you why. I did it because maybe I have a  _ goddamn  _ heart! Maybe I don’t think that every sinner in Hell is ‘evil’ just for existing!” 

A part of the Vestal’s collected mask snaps. “So that warrants throwing away an ancient relic?!”

“Maybe, if that was the only thing I  _ could  _ do! I-” she chokes on her own words. Hot tears come to her eyes and her hands ball into fists. “I felt sympathy, is that so much of a crime?”

“Yes,” the Great Vestal snaps, nothing but hatred in her words. “When it’s about a  _ demon _ .” 

That settles it for her. 

“Fine.” Vagatha says, coldly. She stares boldly ahead, tears running down her cheeks.“If that’s what you all think, I want no part of your  _ heaven _ .” 

* * *

_ Hell.  _

_ Third Circle, Gluttony.  _

_ Post Extermination.  _

You’ve survived the extermination. You know this must be true because you have a splitting migraine, and according to what you know, there’s nothing after you die a second time. 

Slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking to adjust to the low light. It’s night time - how many days have passed you don’t know. But you can assume it’s been a few by the way your clothes feel stiff around your body. 

You twitch your hands. They’re wrapped in...something. Like bandages but thinner and softer. Almost like string, wrapped in layers. A thick blanket is draped over top of you, made up of the same material. 

You turn your head to the side and nearly scream, only barely containing yourself. 

A few feet from your head lies the prettiest, fluffiest spider you’ve ever seen. 

It’s big, about the size of your hand, with bright, glossy eyes and fur so shiny that the sunlight refracts off of it in multiple locations. 

You look around the room, to where the spider has spun numerous webs and tapestries to drape over the windows, giving you privacy. 

You turn your attention to the spider again. “Hi there…” you surprise yourself with how hoarse you sound.

The spider stares back at you, unblinking. You’re afraid to move.

“Was this place… your home before I came here? I’m sorry if I ruined it.”

_ Stare. _

“You’re welcome to stay here, it’s your place after all.”

_ Stare. _

You’re unsure of what to do. Is it hungry? Does it want something from you?

_ Stare. _

...It’s a long shot, but you try it anyway. 

You call out for the bow. It appears in your fingertips. The spider perks up, scuttling towards you. 

You panic, but as it draws near, it only wants to explore the object you hold, walking over the crescent moon symbol in the middle, which is again, glowing a faint purple. 

You sit up carefully, being mindful of your own strength and your new friend. It’s only then that you notice the holes in your clothes have also been fixed in addition to the cuts on your hands and body. 

“Did you do all of this for me?” 

The spider just stares at you.

“Well...thank you if you did. I appreciate this,” you gesture all around, fluttering the blanket gathered at your legs. 

The spider inspects it, then scuttles off of you, beginning to work on another web in the corner. 

Not much of...anything, that one is. 

While you let your new (?) companion adjust to the environment, you decide to step outside to stretch your legs, whereupon you’re attacked by a worried crow.

You spit out a flurry of black feathers from your mouth. Corveous nuzzles into your chest and rubs against your face. 

“Ohh, Corv, did you get locked out of the house?”

He gives a sad coo. 

“Aww, It’s alright buddy, I’m here now.” You stroke him gently until he’s calmed down on your hand. Other than being very thirsty and having a headache, you feel fine. The poison must have finally worked its way through your system while you were passed out. 

You sit on the front deck with Crov, listening to the howling of the wind and watching the moon rise over the treetops. The forest is peaceful, quiet. 

And most of all - it’s where  _ you  _ decided to live. 

“Y’know what Corv?” you smile up at your bird companion. “I think this is home.” 

* * *

_ Hell.  _

_ Fifth Circle, Pride: Pentagram City.  _

Damn the Angels.

Vagatha curses Heaven as she stumbles around the streets of Pentagram City, freshly banished and cast out of heaven with nothing more than her own writs and a ribbon to tie her hair back.

Even then, she’s changed. Her skin has paled to a grey, and her hair has turned from brown to a monochrome silver. And her eye- 

She has no left eye, only an ‘X’ is in its place. She keeps nearly running into walls because of the perception change. 

Those sadistic fuckers. They took it so she’d resemble the masks those exterminators used, just to rub it into her face about what she’s done. 

Great. 

She passes an advertisement for  _ Vox-maceuticals,  _ some sort of pharmaceutical company. A man with a TV for a head shows off a bottle of pills. The harsh, neon blue light makes her squint. 

Pompus Overlords. They’re all the same...archangels, overlords. They’re just different sides of the same coin. 

She gazes up to the faint halo of heaven above her, twinkling beautifully against the rustic sky. She was never cut out to be an angel. She wasn’t pure or good enough to fit in with them. 

She couldn’t make it as an Angel in Heaven, time to see if she can make it as a demon in Hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes* I live
> 
> Schoolwork and other things have kept me so busy, and I didn't want to burn myself out with trying to get a chapter out on top of that. 
> 
> But here it is! More lore about the bow, and now Vaggie's in Hell. This chapter is probably the last we'll hear from her for a while, but she will return! 
> 
> Oh and ps: A little birdie told me that next chapter, we finally get the return of the big red deer man ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> tumblr: randomrosewrites  
> twitter: randomrosewrite


	22. Hello, Neighbor!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a year of getting used to living in Gluttony, you encounter a strange, red deer on one of your hunting trips...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood, hunting and killing of animals (breif) 
> 
> Mega mega thank you to Ana again for proofreading, these chapters wouldn't be the same without your help. <3

The forest is quiet and loud at the same time. 

The air’s fresh, smelling like pine and wood, and the wind that blows through the area is nice and cool. Tall, black-barked trees stand at attention, leaves rustling and scattering the light of the setting sun that falls into the underbrush. Birds chirp in the evening air, content to entertain the rest of the woodland creatures on such a lazy day by trading musical notes. 

Hopping along a familiar pathway is a spike-tailed rabbit. He bounces along the trail, stops, sniffing and the air, before bouncing along the trail again. 

Even during the most relaxed moments, the herbivores must always be careful. Hell is uncaring for the weak. 

But this rabbit is seasoned and has lived for many years. He knows what to expect from the forest. 

He hops from a bush into the open space of a clearing, on the other side of which is his burrow at the base of a thick oak tree. There, he can settle down for the night and rest his weary legs. 

Just as he emerges from the bush, he’s skewered through the eye and drops like a log, dead. 

The leaves of a nearby tree rustle. A moment later you hop down and emerge into the clearing, examining your latest kill. 

A bit sloppy, but not terrible for using the bow.

You pluck the arrow from the rabbit’s body, examining it. It’s one of your projects you’ve worked on since living in gluttony for the past year - crafting metallic, shimmering arrows from the feather’s Corveous dropped. 

So far, they’ve worked wonders. Honestly, You were impressed at how clean a shot you got. It had been a slow, leisurely day, where you weren't that concerned with hunting and more so just enjoying the atmosphere. 

You slide the arrow back into your quiver on your back, examining the rabbit. He’s got a fair bit of fur and meat on him. Including him, that made three. More than enough for your meal planned tonight. 

Into your game bag the rabbit goes! You begin the long walk back through the forest to your cabin. Holding the bow at your side, crunching leaves underneath your feet. 

An echoing screech makes your ears perk up. You look to the sky and spot Corveous, your ever-observant hunting bird, circling an area about a kilometer north of you. 

He's found something unusual. 

You decide to investigate, stringing an arrow into your bow for good measure. Whatever the thing is, be it wild boar out on an early hunt or a rabid animal causing havoc, you want to be ready. 

As you near the location, you pick up on a peculiar noise. A faint echoing that reverberates through the air that makes every hair on your body stand on edge. 

Music.

_ Vox _ . Is your immediate instinct. You grip the bow tighter, anxiety growing in your gut. 

The faint crackling of music grows nearer as you approach the location, a nauseating tune that makes your head spin. The forest seems to know the music is bad news as well, all of the birds have fallen silent and the trees stand still, unmoving. 

You're very close to the sound now. You slow down, staying low to the ground, every nerve on high alert. 

You tense your muscles, drawing back the string on your bow. (That's the problem with bows, you think idly, they spend the entire time fighting against you.) Ready to let the arrow fly at any second. 

The music is exceptionally loud now, with it being just on the other end of the bush. You creep on your tiptoes, careful not to disturb the slightest branch, and peek through an opening in the leaves. 

There’s a red deer. 

He’s rolling on his back on a stretch of grass, an-old-timey radio next to him producing the music you were hearing. 

The deer is innocent-looking, but it has this aura about it that makes your skin crawl. And most disturbing of all is its  _ teeth _ . Pure yellow, sharp and pointed. 

It’s ear suddenly twitches, and it spins around, locking eyes with you. Its eyes are swallowed up by black, a tiny dot in the center of the eye glowing the faintest of red. 

Fear overtakes you. Too late do you notice the shimmering monocle on the side of its face, or the deer's eyes shifting from a pitch-black void to a great red sea, widening with elation. 

“HEL-”

You release the arrow and skewer the deer right through the forehead. It makes a sickening, wet sound as it hits and the deer flops onto its side. The radio poofs into nothingness and its monocle is thrown off of his face, bouncing twice on the ground before poofing away as well. 

You stand still for a few seconds, mouth wide open. 

Was that... _ Alastor’s voice? _

No...it couldn’t be...unless…?

“ _ Shit- _ ” You rush forward, dropping to your knees. 

The deer's not moving. He's (???) profusely bleeding from the forehead, blood gathering in a dark crimson - almost black - pool on the forest ground.

You wet your lips. A million different options running through your head. Whether your deer friend is Alastor, you aren’t just going to leave him on the forest floor. (At the very least, the deer could make for a very good meal and a rug. You’re not the type to waste, especially since living out in the feral wilderness of Hell.)

But what if the deer isn’t dead? What if it’s some kind of creature with an allusion ability, and by bringing it home you’re only letting in a dangerous beast? What’s even worse, what if the deer  _ is  _ Alastor. If you leave him here, he’ll only end up enraged, hunting down his attacker. But if you take him with you, he might just slaughter you as well. 

Anything could happen, really. 

Take the deer? Don’t take the deer? You don’t have the luxury of time to think much longer. It’ll be dark soon. 

Storing your bow away, you grip the deer firmly by its ankles, hoisting it up on your shoulders and around your neck. 

You whistle for Corveous to return home, then begin the hike back to your cabin. 

* * *

You wash the dried blood from your hands, glancing sideways every few seconds to the deer sprawled out in the middle of your living room, towel underneath it to catch the blood that drips from its wound. 

Once arriving home, you had hurriedly dropped your game bag on the back deck, pushed open the door with your hip, and laid the deer down on the floor. He hasn’t moved ever since you set him down ten minutes ago. The many candles that glow around the room give the weird impression that you’re conducting some sort of seance. Creepy. 

Maybe the deer’s really dead. Maybe he’s just a regular old deer, and you’re imagining things. If so, you could easily skin the deer. Or cook up its contents for a fine stew, maybe even have enough leftovers for a week. If you were a collector, you might have even sawed off the black antlers coming from its head, hanging them above the mantle of your fireplace. 

Things would be much simpler if you were just imagining things. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud clatter, a yelp, and then a puff of smoke coming from outside. You sigh, shaking the water from your hands and swinging open the screen door. 

Your game bag is knocked off the deck, a fury orange tail poking out of it. You lift the bag and shake it, spilling razzberries (that wheeze in a sour melody) and a half-eaten rabbit out of it.

The culprit falls on the floor with a whine, splitting out rabbit fur from its mouth

“Nova, you  _ know _ you’re not supposed to do that.” You scold the firefox. 

Nova, short for  _ supernova _ , is - as you found out from your encyclopedia - a firefox; As the name implies capable of creating and breathing fires. Starting a few months ago, she’d been showing up at night, picking around your trash for scraps of food. You shooed her away but she always came back, persisting and salivating until you gave her something. 

Staring at the goofy, stuffed, smug creature, she doesn’t appear all that intelligent, nor intimidating. But you know better. 

You gather the leftover remains of your hunt back into the bag and swing it over your shoulder. “Just because you did that, you’re not getting dessert tonight.”

She whins, paw thumping against the ground. 

“Don’t argue with me, missy, or I’ll make it a  _ week _ .”

Nova huffs in frustration, sulking over to the fire pit. She flops down, angrily chewing on a half-burnt stick.

_ What a baby.  _

You enter the cabin again, setting the bag on the counter and putting away its contents into containers.

“What rude hospitality,” Alastor’s voice catches you off guard, making you jump. 

You whip around. The red-deer is no longer sitting there, but Alastor, lying on his side and propped up on his elbow. 

You blink once. Twice, to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

He’s dressed the same as you remember him - tattered red suit, deer-print dress shoes, and a bowtie. His coattails trail behind him elegantly, reminding you too much of some French model with how he's lying on his side, propped up with one elbow. 

He raises a brow at you inquisitively. “You shoot me in the head and you haven’t the decency to offer me a glass of water?”

Your mind blanks. 

Nearly three years,  _ three years _ since you saw that face disappear over the side of a building and out of your life. You’d made peace with never seeing him again. You’d accepted it the second you’d woken up in your new body, alone, cold, and freezing from the rain. 

“Am I dreaming? Is this some kind of trick?” You whisper. 

There has to be some kind of joke. You prepare for the punchline, for Alastor to morph into the dear again, for this allusion to fade from your vision and for reality to come back. 

The being that looks like Alastor grips a firm hold of the arrow. “Nope! I’m afraid there’s no illusion-” he tugs, and with a sickening squelch, the arrow is freed from his skull. A red ‘X’ on his forehead glows bright red; your arrow hit him right in the middle of it. “-Unless we’re both in some sort of shared dream? Perhaps we’re both dead and in a second Hell!” 

The arrow is covered in blood. Alastor snaps it in half, letting it drop to the floor like a twig. 

“Good golly,” he makes a ‘phew’! Sound, smearing crimson over his forehead with the back of his hand. “Lucky shot that arrow was. Took me back to my days as a hunter - but I’ve rarely ever been the one being hunted! Haha!” 

Your throat closes up. No no no no. This can’t be real. You were supposed to have left everything from your old life alone a while ago. Those people and memories were from another life.

“Are you really him?” you croak. “Are you really the radio demon?” 

“Do you think anyone would dare impersonate me?”

...Very good point. But it’s nothing conclusive. 

Your expression must reflect your thoughts. Alastor sighs, summoning his microphone in one hand. He taps the end of it against the floor, and his shadow rises from the wooden boards, sinking around Alastor. It regards you with hazy blue eyes. It, too, has an ‘X’ wound on its forehead, which spews a form of blue mist. With another tap of his microphone, his shadow disperses. 

“It really is you,” you say, breathlessly.

“The one and only, my dear.”

It’s funny how seeing him again, everything makes sense. The curve of his jaw, the shape of his eyes, the swish of his hair - you remember it all but-

You gulp. Does he remember you?

Your appearance is different, but certain features and your voice is somewhat similar. It’s possible he remembers you. 

Danger alarms go off in your head. He’s at war with Vox! If he knows who you are, Vox could find out where you are. 

“Are you just going to stand there and let me bleed out? Or can I get some assistance?”

“Oh -” that kicks you back into gear. You grab at one of the kitchen towels, holding it out to him. (From a somewhat safe distance.) “Here. Do you need stitches or anything?”

He takes it, pressing it to the wound of his forehead. “No this should be fine, thank you.”

Good. Because you don’t trust turning your back on him for a second. 

You rock on your heels. He hasn’t said anything that would suggest he recognizes you, so you think you’re safe, but you can’t be too sure. The safest bet is to keep pretending to be clueless. 

“Sorry about that,” you say, wringing your fingers out. “Shooting you in the head, I mean.”

“Nonsense,” he dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “It barely even tickled. I was actually impressed! That was a good shot, and I’m amazed you managed to sneak up on me like that.” 

He’s still lying on the floor, making you believe that he might not be as in perfect condition as he’s trying to make you believe. 

You cough lightly. “I had no idea the radio demon could shapeshift.”

"I'm full of surprises, my dear." He pulls the bloodied towel into a closed fist, before showing off his hands with a flourish, towel gone. "Number one rule of showmanship."

"Hey, I want that towel back-"

He gets up suddenly, examining the various things in the room. "And I must say, what a lovely abode you’ve got here - what is this? Stained oak?” He raps his knuckles against the wall.

...you're never getting that towel back. 

He examines your home, thoroughly. “Marvelous place, really. Most folk settle down in Envy if Pride doesn’t tickle their fancy - but  _ rarely  _ Gluttony. Tell me-”

He turns around, for the slightest of seconds almost falling over. He does a good job of hiding it, but you notice. “What about this place sparked your interest?”

It was the furthest away from Vox and the only other circle higher than Gluttony is Lust. You’re not that interested in living in a place that’s basically a mega-brothel. 

“I like forests.” You say instead.

“Ahh, yes,” Alastor nods, humming. “Forests. Always something so peaceful about them. But with peacefulness comes boredom.” 

“So why’d you come here if they’re boring?”

Alastor summons his monocle, adjusting it on his face. Blood continues to flow from his wound. You grimace at the thought of cleaning up afterwards. “I live near here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, a couple hundred miles north, by the swamps.”

Ah, yes, the northern part of the forest that holds wetlands and marshes, areas which you haven’t dared to go to yet, because of the lack of food and the hostile creatures in the murky water.

“So what brings down south?” you ask. 

Alastor shrugs. “I felt like taking a stroll.”

“Is strolling through the forest, rolling on the grass as a dear something you overlords do for fun?”

He grins, biting his lip. “Maybe.”

There’s a rattling at the door, gathering both of your attention. You answer it, letting in your clingy black raven, Corveous. He lands on your shoulder, tucking his wings firmly behind his back, skewed from his flight. 

“Heya bud,” you hold your finger out for him to nibble on. “Have a good flight?”

He gives a soft  _ cawww  _ of approval, nibbling on your digit. That noise stops in his throat the second he spots Alastor. He freezes like a statue. 

Alastor grins at him. “Hello there!”

_ Squawk squawk squawk! _

Corv fans his wings out and flies in front of you, aggressively puffing up. 

“Corv,” you struggle to wrangle in the agitated bird. The last thing you want is for Alastor to get pissed off and smite your bird. “Corv, buddy, calm down.  _ Calm down. _ ” 

You manage to calm him down somewhat, having him perched on your hand, but his feathers are ruffled and his wings are extended, baring his metal under feathers. 

“You’ve even got yourself a hunting bird!” Alastor says, approaching Corv despite his agitated nature. You inhale sharply as Corv nearly bites Alastor’s finger off when he gets too close for the bird's comfort. “Marvelous! What other secrets do you have?”

Great. Now he’s  _ interested  _ in you. Way to go. 

“Well,” you take a step back to put some distance between you and Alastor. But he takes another eager step forward. 

Is it too late to run away? Probably. Your eyes desperately scan your cottage when you spot a familiar figure in the corner. 

Bingo. 

“Here-” you let Corveous go, allowing him to rest on his own perch above the fireplace, grabbing your other friend in your hands.

Alastor’s eyes widen as you present him with a golden, fluffy spider. 

“This is tootsie,” you say, letting the arachnid crawl over your hand. “She’s a spider.”

More specifically a species of spider called  _ angelic arachnids _ , nicknamed after angels for their golden colour and highly toxic, highly painful poison. She was the spider that took care of you after you passed out during the extermination and had stuck around, settling nicely into your home. 

You had wanted to call her ‘Angie’ at first (totally not inspired by the name of another pink and white spider you had the pleasure of knowing.) But after everything that had happened, you felt you had no right. Despite four years going by, whenever you closed your eyes and imagined his voice, it came to you clearly.

_ “Heya toots, how’s it goin?” _

So, you named her Tootsie, like ‘toots’ (But also like the candy.)

You let Tootsie back to her web. “There’s other ones. Most of them kinda just...visit? I don’t know why.”

Sometimes it’ll be a squirrel or a rabbit - one time there was even this hawk that crashed into your window. He was in a daze for the next hour, flopping around like he was drunk in a blanket you had swathed him in. 

While other animals visit on and off, Corv and Tootsie are by far your closest animal companions. They’re always around, no matter what. 

Corv hops back on your head, making your ears flatten. “I just let them do whatever.” 

Alastor watches your interaction, standing with his unwavering gaze. “Enchanting. I was never one for animals, too much work and they weren’t all that appealing.” 

"Yeah…" You trail off. You feel like you're being assessed with how intensely you're looking at. It unnerves you.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? A glass of water?" Maybe he’ll say no and get out. Unlikely but you can try. 

"Some water would be wonderful.” 

Dammit. 

You busy yourself by getting the drinks. Alastor takes a seat at the table, looking around your place. Corv stays glued to your shoulders, staring down Alastor's own unblinking eyes. 

How do you tell an overlord to get out of your house?

It’s not that you don’t want Alastor here (you don’t, but that’s not the point) it’s that Alastor being here is a major threat to you. Both from the fact that you (still!) don’t trust him as far as you can throw him and that he’s up in arms with Vox. The man you’ve been trying to run away from for the past three years. 

Yet Alastor makes no intention to leave, sitting at your kitchen table, admiring the handiwork in the wood.

You set the drinks down on the table, settling into the rickety chair across from Alastor. (You don’t bother bringing snacks, more excuses for him to stay longer.)

He wraps both hands ground the chipped glass, taking an elegant sip. It’s crazy how pleasant and refined his mannerisms are. 

Multiple times you try and open your mouth to say something, only to close it again. Keeping your mouth shut is probably the worst thing you can. Alastor is surprisingly quiet too. 

Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok. 

Why was this so awkward…? Something about Alastor sitting in your dining room didn't compute with your mind. Especially since you weren't all that sure why he was here in the first place. 

Alastor snaps his fingers all of a sudden, startling you. “I just realized - I never got your name.” 

You freeze. Shit. 

Fake name. Give him a fake name-

“Do you go by your usual one? Or is  _ the assistant  _ adequate for you?”

Your lungs freeze and fall to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. 

Your ears ring. Your head spins. A cold sweat breaks out over your face. 

He knows who you are. 

“...excuse me?” You say, trying to play off some form of ignorance, but you know it’s fruitless.

“Come now, let's not kid ourselves,” Alastor says, drawing his finger around the rim of his glass, torturously slow. “Did you  _ really  _ think I wouldn’t recognize you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur. 

“Want me to spell it out?” He laces his fingers, propping his elbows up on the table. “You’re Vox’s assistant. The assistant from three years ago that was supposedly killed and gone for good.”

Supposedly, huh. Is that the official story Vox told the media?

_ Shit _ , Angel thinks you’re dead then. Like dead-dead.

_ Focus _ ! The radio demon knows who you are. He practically has his boot at your throat. 

You sit back in the chair, inhale shakily. “What if I am?”

“I’m not going to tattle on him if that’s what you think. I have no intention of helping that pompous, digital, bastard in any way.” His last words are ground out and muttered lowly, static clogging up his vocal cords. “I was just thinking we could talk without this facade you keep trying to play off.”

You relax a bit. If Alastor’s truths are iffy, but his hatred for Vox is the only certainty you trust. 

At least for now, you’re ok. 

“Good. Then let’s keep it that way.” You stand up, opening the back door and pointing to it. “Now that that’s settled - get out.”

Alastor stares at the door, making no move to leave. 

“Why the rush?” he sits back, propping his feet up on the other chair. “We have loads to catch up on.”

“Funnily enough. I don’t think you’re here to do that.”

“Oh? Then what  _ am  _ I here to do?

“Don’t know, don't care-” you point. “ _ Out _ .”

“How rude.” he huffs. “I’m  _ fatally wounded _ and you’re kicking me out already.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t care.  _ Out _ .” 

“I’m  _ bleeding _ ,” He points to his forehead which indeed is still spewing blood. A droplet spills into his drink, staining the water a light pink. 

“I’m sure you’ll live.” 

He shakes his head, pouting. “You’re a lot colder than I remembered.”

“That was before I was tortured and humiliated on live television,” you snap. “I worked with you last time because I  _ had  _ to, but I want nothing to do you, or Vox, or your guys’ shit ever again.”

His eyes freeze over slightly, just slightly.

“Five minutes.” He states. (Even though you both know he’s going to get those five minutes regardless.) “Just five minutes.”

“Fine,” you sigh, slamming the door with a bit too much force. The chair scrapes against the floor as you pull it out and sit back in it angrily. 

Ten minutes. Six-hundred seconds. Easy. You can do this.

Alastor doesn’t waste a moment. “You’ve heard about the war, haven’t you?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Well, there isn’t really ‘anything’ to it currently. We’re at a stalemate.”

“Thrilling,” you say sarcastically. “What does that have to do with  _ me _ ?”

“You’re not interested in the affairs your master has gotten up to?” 

“Nope. And if you think I wanna partner up with you again to take him down - you’re wrong, Al.” Your brows kit together. “Believe it or not, I  _ like  _ my life now. I like making my own decisions and not having to feel like I’m more dead-than alive every day.” 

Ironic, how you had to die to actually begin living. Corveous rubs against your cheek, attempting to help soothe your stress. 

“All I want is to stay as far away from Vox as I can, for as long as I can. Getting involved with either of your shit is just gonna drag me back into that.”

Vox would be back. Eventually. Maybe. You could always hope that he would simply never return. But he most likely would. One day, fate will knock at your door, telling you it was time to pay up. 

But you’d keep living the way you wanted until that time comes. 

“I see…” Alastor hums. Not judging, just processing. “You’re sure about that choice? Letting your debts pile up over the years doesn’t usually end well.”

“Oh I know,” you say. “But I’m sure.” 

Alastor sits back, taking a sip from his drink. “Fair enough.” 

...That’s it? 

“Really?”

“Yes, what else do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’d say ‘y _ ou have to assist me otherwise I’ll turn you in _ .'”

“Are you serious?”

You stare at him dubiously. “Yeah.” 

His ear twitches. He exhales deeply. “Well you can rest easy - I’m not about to do that. The decision is yours to make, not mine.” 

He says that, but you don’t know how truthful he is about it. Though you suppose for now, if he’s not pushing, that’s fine.

“Alright...What else did you want?”

“Hm...oddly enough, I don’t really have anything else to say.” 

_ Doubtful _ , you think. 

He rubs his finger over his chin. “Oh, I know! How about you ask me something.”

What is this, twenty-one questions? “Sure, how’re things in the city?”

"Ooh. Quite well!" Alastor’s eyes gleam as he talks. "I haven’t dropped by in a while, but recently Husker just gained ownership of a particular casino - you remember the one don't you? Well, he's quite happy with that. Gives him something to take care of."

The Blackjack Casino. Lucifer, that feels like eons ago when you first nagged him with a letter… "Ah yes...the place where you first threatened me."

"What? I didn't  _ threaten  _ you."

"You  _ literally  _ choked me half to death"

"I was  _ intimidating _ you," he corrects. "There's a difference. Besides, I think after everything, we're past those rocky times, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes. You weren't all that upset over it (though maybe just a little salty.) It happened so long ago and worse things have happened to you. "Just don't do it again, and we're good."

"Deal."

He laughs at how all the blood drains from your face. "I'm only joking."

Fuck. He's going to give you a heart attack. The last time you made a deal, things turned out pretty horrible for you.

But now, things are looking up. You've got a house...animal companions…

And now the radio demon. Who isn’t your friend, but he really isn’t your enemy either. (Aquanticences? What else would you call it?) 

As if on cue, Alastor takes out his pocket watch and checks it. “Ah, looks like our time is up.” 

He stands. His wound is still bleeding, trickling down his face and staining his suit. “I suppose this is goodnight. Lovely chat, thank you for the refreshments.”

Oh yeah, grade-A service you’ve shown; serving lukewarm stream water. “You’re welcome.”

As Alastor fixes his suit at the doorway, you tap your finger against your cup. A question nags at the back of your mind and you're too curious to  _ not  _ ask it. 

“Hey, Alastor?”

He looks at you, head slightly cocked to the side like an actual dear. “Hm?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

He grins, holding up four fingers. “Four reasons. One. You weren’t terrified out of your mind when you saw me and even brought me into your home. Two. Your personality and general behaviour. Three, perhaps the most obvious reason...”

He points at you. “I caught a glimpse of your bonding mark…”

Immediately, you rush to pull down your sleeve.  _ Of course _ , you idiot. The symbols’ a clear giveaway. It wasn’t outwardly exposed, but all it would take was for your sleeve to roll down slightly for him to see it. 

“And four, well,” he grins in his usual cheshire like manner. “That one’s a surprise.”

With that little mystery, he steps out the door, soft, old jazz from his radio echoing into the night. 

* * *

Alastor’s wobbly on his feet as he walks. He puts his hand up against the trunk of a tree for support, gasping as his vision sparks black at the edges.

You did a lot more damage to him than he thought you would have. His regeneration abilities are having a hard time healing him. 

You see, the arrow wasn’t particularly unique in any way, but the key part was that it hit his  _ forehead _ . 

The spot where he had been fatally shot as a human. It’s almost like a weak point of his. 

The wound aches, phantom pain spasming through his brain, making his head feel like it’s being squished. Even after so many years, the mark still hurts occasionally, reminding him of his death, of that cold, rainy night...the scent of sweat, blood, and dogs...

He closes his eyes, waits until the dizzy spell passes, as it always does. That was a long time ago. He’s grown stronger, powerful. 

The pain fades to a dull throb. He straightens himself, adjusting his suit, summoning his radio into his hand. 

The arrow wasn’t all that special, no, that part Alastor could tell.

But that  _ bow  _ on the other hand…

He has a feeling things are about to get interesting again. 

Spinning the radio along his fingers, he walks through the forest, wind mixing with the creepy reverb of his sickly, staticky radio. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ana has drawn some amazing fanart for the reader, you can find that [here!](https://randomrosewrites.tumblr.com/post/637973898547347456/plohphue-fanart-for-randomrosewrites)
> 
> This is my Christmas gift to you guys, I hope you liked reuniting with Alastor again!  
> This will be the last chapter for the year, so happy holidays! I plan to write during the Christmas break, but also take some time to rest because man, school is brutal. 
> 
> I'll see you guys in the New year! Thank you for reading!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://randomrosewrites.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/randomrosewrite)


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